Pupal Stage
02.05.10
He fed it human hearts, and freshly harvested ones at that. He hated getting them, but the alternative was unthinkable. Every time he was coming down from the high it gave him, his conscience would rear its weak head and he would be overcome with remorse. But as time drew him further away from its last feed, and his last high, he found himself feverish and thinking of the logistics again – how to get another heart for it without getting caught.
It had come out of nowhere on a night when he had been planning to wash down a handful of sleeping pills with a pint of whisky. In the middle of the floor there had appeared a small, round clump made up of an undulating dark substance, mewling out of what could have equally been a beak or a snout. His first reaction had been to grab the nearest object that could be used as a weapon – a pewter candlestick that the bitch had deemed unworthy of her new home. He had stepped cautiously towards it with the weapon held high, expecting it to either jump at him or scuttle under the furniture. Instead it had rolled from side to side and he had realised it could not move – it had no legs. He had lowered the candlestick and stood still watching it; it had fixed its red eyes upon him, opened its mouth wide and let out a stream of whimpering noises.
Even in his shock, he could not have interpreted this as anything other than a cry of hunger. He brought it the only edible thing still left in the house – a piece of lamb’s liver. It had eaten the offering greedily, and then he had watched in alarm as the creature grew a little larger and started exuding a red mist. He had pushed back from what he had thought must be a toxic substance, but it had proved too quick for him. He had inhaled and been instantly transported to a world where there was no pain, no sorrow – a world where nothing mattered except the sweet warmth coursing through his veins. The next day he had gone to the supermarket and bought lots of liver.
For a couple of weeks, they had settled into a routine he would have been happy to live in forever; he fed it, it grew a little, it provided him with the red mist, and once his high had worn off he would feed it and kickstart the cycle again. Then one day, when it had grown to the size of a cat, he had fed it, but it had not grown. He had looked at it in dismay as no red mist came forth and had been about to retrieve the candlestick and beat it in despair when it fixed its eyes on him again. He had known instantly that animal livers were no longer sufficient. It had taken him two days of withdrawal symptoms before he had succumbed to the siren call of the red substance and claimed his first victim.
This had been weeks ago. It had since grown to the size of a small pony, and had taken on a more elongated shape. His own shape had also changed; he had grown gaunt from the withdrawal cycles and his shoulders had stooped under the weight of his guilt. He had learned that, after a feed on human liver, the red mist gave a superior high than it did after a feed on animal liver. It had not been a great leap to deduce that human hearts would result in a high superior even to that – though of course that made the withdrawal much, much worse. The anger he experienced once the high peaked and the descent began also increased tenfold, and one day he had decided to kill it, despite the fact that he could not live without it. Candlesticks did not affect it, he had found out; dents made in its body or head were immediately filled out again. Stabbing it with kitchen knives had no effect either. He had given up and the feeding cycle had continued.
He looked at the creature with undisguised hatred. He always looked at it like that when the effect of the mist was starting to wear off, but there was still enough of the substance inside his bloodstream to keep him from breaking down. It looked back at him with a calm indifference; it was clearly not at all worried that he would let it go hungry, and this made him angrier still. Then it hit him – he knew how to stop the cycle. In order to live, it had to eat. In order to eat, it needed him to bring the food, as it was not able to move far without legs. And he was incapable of denying it food. A grin spread on his face, and it cocked its head to one side in curiosity at his unusual change of countenance. He acted quickly, before he could think through what he was doing and stop himself.
“Enjoy your last meal,” he said. He grabbed a kitchen knife, used it to dig into his own ribcage, removed his heart and threw it in front of the creature.
Death came to him quickly enough to spare him the triumphant look on its face. It ate up his heart in two bites, closed its eyes and waited for things to start happening under its body. As all those of its kind knew instinctively, you can carry on indefinitely while your host brings you human hearts. But it’s not until they break down and willingly feed you their own heart, laden with nutritious misery, that you begin the final growth stage – and that means legs.
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Tags: Addiction, Creature, Flash Fiction, fridayflash, Horror, Writing
Very intriguing horror story which captures from the first sentence!
It’s always a pivotal moment when the kids don’t need the parent anymore, eh?
Wonderful scary tale.
This is so inventive and has lots of style. You keep ratcheting up the intensity and the grizzle while the pace remains sweetly sedate.
I’m respectfully in awe of your imagination Mazzz. This one would go well with a nice chianti!
Simon.
This was so calmly brutal throughout, and then the ending was the capper! Too bad for whatever town this guy lived in…
And another senseless sacrifice! Fun read, but I knew it would be; you always deliver.
When I read the creature had red eyes I knew we were in trouble! Top notch evil again Maria 🙂
I like the mellow feel telling the reader this is the way. Imaginative spooky, dual dependency aids the survival of the baby. Brilliant.
This was good. You’re making a name in the horror genre. I like your versatility.
As always your work is 8 shades of awesome. It seems to me that symbiosis and the loss of innocence are running themes in your recent works, is this a conscious decision or direction you have been taking your stories?
As ever, thanks guys.
Whoah – Al, I was originally intending to call this story “Symbiosis”! I didn’t realise I had a recurring theme (so that answers your question!). Hmmm, what would Freud say…?
Brilliant. I was enjoying it purely for its unique take on addiction, but then his last vie for freedom, playing right into its hands? I love it. Well, I also don’t love it because: erk, ew, and ack. Great story.
“But it’s not until they break down and willingly feed you their own heart…..”
Legs….. just in time to walk away during Valentine’s month…. more symbolism? Poor guy.
It icked me out that the creature was the size of a cat, then the size of a small pony…both things that I would usually go off to look at pictures of when I’m creeped out. I guess today it’ll have to be pictures of puppies…..
Great story.
Karen :0)
Great stuff. I like that ‘it’ had kept him alive too, after his plan to swallow the whisky and pills. a well-told story – as usual
evil and deliciously dark. just the right achy tone to this one mazz. you do horror very well.
The ‘child’ consumes the life of the ‘parent’, eh? Indeed, what would Freud say?!
“mewling” is an utterly fabulous word! I’ll have to use that!
I fed a butterfly with sugar solution once…it had been hibernating & was squeaking (until then, I didn’t know they could! – v.freaky!). Do you think some day it will come back & eat my heart? I’m sleeping with the lights on…
Wow. Really loved your story. Staggering final few paragraphs. Stephen King hasn’t got anything on you.
So damn creative and your pacing perfectly reflects the creature’s patience. Loved it.
Wow, that is one hell of a first line! Fantastic story! I love the premise!
Your writing just keeps getting better each time I read it. Rock on!
I love the calm way this tale unfolds and how the creature just waited for the final meal, knowing it wasn’t the end at all. Brilliant imagination!
Well, at least you spared the poor guy in the end…sort of. LOL, what a fun read! Is that bad? That this was fun? 🙂
Wow, Maria, this is outstanding work, (not that I’m surprised). Those dark shadows are creepy enough as it is, and making them a red mist just knocks the spookiness out of the park. Very well done!
The mystery around the monster works brilliantly… by the end I could almost see it, though it’s never actually described.
I also love the paradox at the heart of the story…
Very cool! The ultimate life cycle. The death of one brings on the life of another. Well told!
mazzz – sweet tale here. The subtle horror in it – the creature growing and growing. And then two endings for the price of one! 🙂
Well done.
Jim
Another brilliant tale with your characteristic dark humour and inventive alternative worlds. The gripping first sentence really draws the reader in – a disturbingly pleasurable read from start to finish!
I too was enjoying what I took (among other things) as a unique and powerful take on addiction and then got to the end. Great twist. (One I still think could play as a statement about addiction.) Psychologically powerful:
“But it’s not until they break down and willingly feed you their own heart, laden with nutritious misery, that you begin the final growth stage – and that means legs.”
This could be read to be true in so many ways. But this is me, always reading symbol, metaphor, perhaps over-analyzed meaning into others’ stories. 🙂 Without this reading, though, the story stands wonderfully wrought–absorbing, drawing the reader in just as he was to the creature’s red mist–heightening excitement–then delivering the final blow (stab).
Great first line. I’ve read this twice, think I’ll read again… a lot to think about. Thanks. Peace, Linda
One heck of a spooky story here. I like the parallels to addiction too.
Oh, so clever, so nasty. Forcing an addicted slave into suicide to get to the next stage of development. Yeuch. Really nicely paced and powerful punch at the end!
PS Glad you got the site back up at last!
Euw, but in a good way! Somewhat unsettling, and I liked the themes of addiction and children’s independence you weaved into the story.
Calmly captivating and intensely brutal horror. (wiping sweat from my brow)
You’ve done it again.
Go Mazzz
Nice!
Great opening line. Nice play on addiction. And I really like the concept — it’s the willingness of the victim to offer his own heart that matters most. The last line was perfect; this is one of those endings that’s really the beginning to something much bigger, but is still satisfying.
You know how some stories feel real, and others don’t feel real per se but they’re still worth reading? This one felt real until the victim cut out his own heart. It just seemed a little too easy, and therefore presented itself to my mind as symbolic. Not that it matters, because the story is still worth reading, and the shift in mentality probably helped me accept the point-of-view switch in the last paragraph.
Nice work.
He fed it human hearts. What an incredibly enticing first line! From there the suspense and horror builds slowly and steadily. Whatever “it” is your description of it is powerful … from a kitten size lump to the thing with legs. You don’t describe the high, but from your character’s reaction to it, it’s very clear how gripping it is. Wonderful! ~ Olivia
Smoothly written with some downright disgusting horror. Yuck – but the bit at the end is excellent. Great idea, made real with skillful writing.
“He hated getting them, but the alternative was unthinkable.” -I love that. Deliciously grotesque.
And to think, I used to love to eat liver, allbeit cooked. Your work is getting so scary I may have to give up reading your stories in the evening. Great ending!
Barb Relyea
“He fed it human hearts, and freshly harvested ones at that.” There was no way I WASN’T gonna read this story after that intro.
Nice literal analogy on feeding one’s addiction. Good job.
Yep, horror indeed. This gave me the heeby-jeebies! The build was well-written (although I can’t say that I *liked* it 😉 good job!
While I think your horror writing is very effective, this kept making me think of Little Shop of Horrors so I was singing to myself by the end 😛
Fantastic opening line, too.
And finally, reading your blog makes me realize that putting a bit of spacing between the lines makes it a little easier to read. I might have to steal that for FFF!
I actually read this a couple of days ago but for some reason it wouldn’t let me comment. I LOVED this story. LEGS! AAAAH! You did a great job building your main character and the tension is amazing. I did find one little typo -“He had inhaled and been instantly transported to a world where the was no pain, no sorrow”, I think you mean “there was no pain”. Terrific hook too.
At first I thought this was a metaphor for addiction, which it very well could be, but the ending made it even better. Very nicely done, as always!
CD
This is like a series of (very scary) Tales of the Unexpected. They are so very well written that they haunt you for ages afterwards. Not a suitable bedtime read!
Far out – didnt see that one coming.
You have a mastery of suspense – all brought about with that first line – sucking you in – like the red mist; making the reader desperate to know what will happen next.
the last part was the kicker – deliciously evil and yet so innocent.
thanks for popping over and commenting on my story last week
http://annieevett.blogspot.com/2010/02/through-angels-eyes.html