The Bath

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short twisted horror story. It's also a rough draft, so comments and suggestions would be appreciated. Thank you. :)

Submitted: September 15, 2013

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Submitted: September 15, 2013

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The Bath

“Stay safe honey,” my mother waves from the passenger seat of the dusty old black Lincoln.

“Will do mom, love you!” I wave back.

 My dad, having come running up behind me, bounds toward the car. 

“Love you Anima!” he shouts behind him. “We’ll be back on Monday. Emergency numbers are on the fridge! No alcohol, boys, or parties!!” I cringe.

 With that he slides into the driver’s seat, and starts the ignition. Behind the tinted windshield I can barely make out their silhouettes. I turn and enter the somber red front door. The entryway’s gray pallor welcomes me solemnly.

Three days all to myself, I think eagerly. To my left is the small rustic kitchen, in front of me are steep dark stairs, and to my right is the patch worked living room. I turn right, the ancient floor boards creaking under my bare feet, and then plant myself onto the poppy plastered couch. In front of me, on the coffee table, lay my discarded copy of The Shining by Stephen King. I pick it up and read until my eyes drift closed.

A thump stirs me from my dreams. With eyes clouded over by sleep, I get up, stretch, and glance down at my watch.

“Ugh,” I think aloud. It’s past midnight.

I drift through the living room and turn up the stairs. The darkness of night engulfs me as I clamber up the grunting stairs. Once on the landing three rooms watch me from behind closed doors.  I choose lucky door number two. Once inside I skirt my hand along the wall and turn on the light. Porcelain appliances litter the little room. A claw foot tub is shoved to one side while the sink and commode crouch quietly together in the opposite corner, and a medicine cabinet mirror guards over them. The tub’s faucet turns warmly under my nimble fingers. Water pours greedily in copper tones, but slowly clears to an off white. The fogginess of sleep has almost dissipated entirely; leaving getting undressed an easier task. My clothes drop precariously into a pile at my feet. From above the sink a flaxen haired woman leers out at me, I turn around, dismissing her. Cautiously, I step into the steaming water and sink slowly to the bottom. My back slips deftly down the back of the tub and my feet rise to toy with the faucet nozzle. My chin sinks below the water, leaving my nose perching above drowning point.

My eyes close into content slits. The only noise comes from the gentle sloshing of my chest rising and descending, and the gentle drip of lone tears from the faucet. The white ceiling light gives off an ethereal glow. I succumb to the wondrous feeling of water caressing my tired limbs and allow my eyes to drift closed.

An insistent clicking wakes me from my reverie. My eyes snap open and I immediately know something’s off. The light is flickering. I glance down at the water and it shows my startled reflection one second, and then the next it’s gone, leaving me in a faceless void. The water splatters and slams against the walls of the tub as I sit upright. The cool air of the room slaps my back, and I whip my head around to look back at the door and light switch. As I do, a long drawn out scraping noise replaces my steady heartbeat with a racing terrified one. I stand up ram rod straight. Adrenaline courses through my body leaving me panting and gasping for air. As I go to step out of the tub the light goes out completely, leaving me drenched not only in water but in pitch black. My right foot silently steps out onto the floor and, as I step my left out, the bathroom door suddenly slams open revealing pouring light from the hallway. I close my eyes in disbelief, and count to five.

I open them and repress a scream. It’s as if nothing has happened… My back is still perched on the back of the tub and my feet are still being held upright by the valve.

“What the hell,” I mutter in disbelief.

Gingerly I stand up and step out of the tub onto the freezing but dry tiles. My mind is reeling. What was all of that? My mind reeks of tension as I reach below the sink and pull out a discolored but clean towel. I dry off and toss my hair down to towel dry it. Maybe I just need some sugar…or something, I think meekly. A creeping sense of something watching me bolts my head and hair upward. I peek nervously at the mirror and gasp.

My pale blue eyes stare in dismay back at me. My mouth stands agape in shock and utter horror. Just beyond my reflection is a monster so horrible and nauseating that the mirror barely catches my hand rising up to grasp my mouth as the bile rises. I twist around so fast that the room spins. But, when my eyes meet the back of the room nothing meets my eyes but the door. I twirl back around to check for my reflections reassurance, but it’s no longer there to stare back.

Standing in its way is terror itself. My eyes come only to meet swollen red spheres that roost atop a bestial snout. Ears like that of a bull grip it’s head menacingly and long drawn out horns ensnare its beautifully grotesque face. Tentatively I take a step back and examine the rest of him in pure shock. The entire thing as a whole is like someone dipped it in oily black ink. Its chest and torso is that of a man’s, and long sinewy arms lay amiably by its sides. From the waist down the only word that comes to mind is Satyr. But this is no happy mythical forest creature. This is the basis of nightmares, the origin of fear, and in my mind I am seeing the derivation of evil itself, and it is dreadfully real.

It steps toward me echoing silence with its hooves. I retreat back. It opens its muzzle and in between the rows of razor sharp teeth raises the most feral sound I have ever heard. It seeps into my subconscious and leaves an odor of total trepidation. Bile finally spews from my mouth onto the sterile white tiles. I ring my eyes shut and vomit until I can no longer vomit. From behind my eyes I wonder idly why that thing hasn’t ripped me to pieces yet.  I glance unhurriedly upward expecting the worst, and it is the worst.

I’m back in the damn tub, and water is wrapped around me once more. I scream in pure frustration and slap my hand into the water causing it to splatter across the floor. I glance down at my mess and gasp. It’s blood. Thick blackish red drops of blood are strewn out across the pale floor. My eyes travel back into the tub and widen in shock. It’s filled to the rim with gore. Organs that are long past distinguishable float lazily around me. I feel bile rise within me once more, a now familiar occurrence, and I go to bite it back but realize I have nothing to bite onto. My tongue is gone. My hands shoot up to my mouth and search questioningly for my missing muscle. I once again bolt upright from the tub and go to steady myself on the edge of the tub but there’s nothing to steady myself with. Where my hands should be they are not, I peer down at the water and see them treading along the surface of the water towards me. While I cast my eyes slowly upward I notice painfully that my stomach has been ripped open. The organs pooling at the bottom of tub are mine. I faint.

Water tickles at my nose and I peer up from below my lashes searching for what nightmare awaits for me this time. Nothing is out of the ordinary, once again. Without waiting for the inevitable I clamber up out of the tub and slip and almost fall on the tiles. My mind sways groggily along with my body, but I finally make it to the door and swing it open. There on the other side of the door stands the monster.

It screams at me in its feral tongue and leaves me struggling for air. I stagger backward in fear and grapple for something to hold onto. My hands come to rest on the edge of the sink and I bring my body back as far as the sink will let me. The beast rears its ugly head at me and charges forward. I grab hopelessly behind me for anything to throw, but all my hands come to rest on is the mirror. I have an idea. In the blink of an eye I swing around and punch the mirror, splintering mine and the nurse’s reflection. He pauses midway, his uniform white sneakers squeaking warningly against the tiles. I smile, grab a piece of my broken soul, and lunge at him. The mirror never makes contact.

The water is strangling me once more, but this time I am thrust out of the water by medically trained hands. Temperate faces peer down at me in a way that makes me feel like a lab rat. I claw and dig my nails into any of them I can, my legs flail and kick out at murderous angles, and my head whips back and forth in anguish belting forlorn cries. I must defeat these monsters, I repeat to myself over and over.

One of the monsters, I believe he is in charge, steps forward and says, “Enough. I believe that’s enough hydrotherapy for today. I believe we’re seeing positive results, aren’t we Anima?” he pats me on the arm and I lunge to bit him. He shakes his head, “You know this will help you dear. Maybe if you feel what your family went through, when you drowned them in your bathtub, you might finally feel remorse.”

 


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