Ouster Demon

The doorbell rang and Sara checked the security camera app on her phone. A package was left at the doorstep, and the delivery person was running away.

“Uuuuggghh…” she groaned and paused the 80s show she’d been binge-watching since yesterday afternoon. The sofa cushions molded to her body, her sweats just right with no annoying tugs or creases, and the socks shrugged down to where they should be – any movement would ruin this perfect moment. But she knew, if the package was stolen from her doorstep, she’d have to explain it to her friend that sent it, and that would be worse. So she got up.

Sara knew what the package was. Well, she didn’t know what it was, but she’d been expecting it. Whatever it turned out to be, she was sure she didn’t need it.

The pandemic lockdown, while horrible in so many ways, had been a godsend for people like Sara. Introverts who, deep down, didn’t really like being around other people. It meant not having to make excuses. Not having to explain why she didn’t want to meet for lunch because there wasn’t any place open to have lunch at. Not having people stand too close because, when they were allowed out of the house, they had to stay a double-arm’s-length away. She could order out for food and groceries, see her friends on face-chat, go to work without leaving the house… Heaven was her one-bedroom apartment, and she was never going to go outside again. Ever.

Then came the vaccine. The pandemic slowed and, like bears emerging after a year of hibernation, people started leaving their houses and apartments, blinking in the sunlight, eager to see other humans in the flesh.

And Sara had to start making excuses again.

Sara declined invitations, and at first her friend, Trish, was fine with it. Everyone needed to re-enter the world at their own pace. After a while, though, Trish had begun to worry. It had been months since the quarantine lockdown had been lifted, and Sara still hadn’t left the house.

Repeatedly, Sara assured her friend that she was fine. She wasn’t anxious. She wasn’t agoraphobic or depressed. She had simply seen what life could be like. It was what, deep down, she’d always wanted. Staying home, ordering out, watching Netflix, Zooming friends and work – this was what she’d dreamed of without knowing it was possible. Now that she knew, she wasn’t going to let it go.

Finally, Trish gave her the ultimatum. If Sara didn’t go outside, if she didn’t meet for lunch or a movie or something – anything! – Trish was going to take matters into her own hands, and she knew exactly what to do.

So, now, here Sara was. Looking at the package resting on the mat on her doorstep.

It was wrapped in brown paper. Well, at least that’s what it looked like it had originally been wrapped in. Now it was a combination of brown paper, strapping tape, and thick twine that wound around it several times in all directions and tied at the top with a knot that would make a sailor proud. ‘Ouster Demon’ was stamped in the top left corner, but no return address. Stamped below the label with her address was another stamp: ‘We’ll Get You Out Of The House!’ There was a smiley face with horns.

“Hmm,” Sara thought out loud, “Someone’s come up with a clever way to make some money.”

She tried to pick it up, but it was too heavy and she had to step out and shove it in through the doorway with her foot. Leaving it where it slid to, she went back to the sofa and resumed the binge.

Sara heard another knock, and she checked her app. Nobody was there. She shrugged. It was probably one of the neighborhood kids who, once realizing she never left the house, found great amusement in doing whatever they could to get the crazy lady to come to the door or look out the window. It used to irritate her, but now she just ignored it.

The knocking came again, this time accompanied by a scratching sound. Pushing herself up to see over the back of the sofa, she wondered if she’d gained a mouse as a housemate. She was about to go back to the binging when the box moved.

“Must be a pretty big mouse,” she said, but thought Maybe something electronic starting on its own? She hoisted herself up to go and to have a look.

The box moved again, bouncing in place. Nearly jumping off the ground.

“What on earth…?” She stuffed her phone in the pocket of her sweatpants and leaned down for a closer look.

Sara yelped and fell backwards when it sprung three feet into the air, landed hard, and shimmied violently across the tiled floor. Frantic clawing and scratching sounds came from inside.

The little voice in the back of Sara’s brain was screaming at her to run, but her curiosity kept her in place. On hands and knees she watched the thing jump and shudder around the living room.

Suddenly, it stopped and for a moment it rested silently in the center of the room. Then something inside started making noises. Starting as low, snuffling sounds, then weak whimpers and guttural grunts, it escalated into a screeching howl. An unending wail that shook the tape and twine, and the brown paper trembled all over like crisp, nervous skin.

Sweat beading everywhere, goosebumps rising, hairs standing on end, Sara thought of the senders name: Ouster Demon.

“No way!”

It was at that moment the box somersaulted straight up and burst open, blasting bits of cardboard in every direction. In the midst of it all a red blur whipped out of the box, raced around the apartment, and disappeared…. somewhere.

For a moment – a split second – Sara was a frozen, bug-eyed and open-mouthed. Then, air and blood surging into her lungs and brain, she shrieked and ran for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She hid behind the shower curtain, toilet brush gripped tightly in her hands. Demonic screams carried through the wall and she thought of the other stamp on the box: We’ll Get You Out Of The House! She looked up at the bathroom window, too small and too high to get through. Her mind raced, trying to think of some other means of escape. There was no other way than back through the bathroom door.

The thing stopped howling, and Sara tried to listen over her pounding heart. She imagined what sort of snout was making those sniffing sounds. How long were the claws scratching the floor? How sharp were the teeth that were probably drooling all over her sofa as it searched for her?

She waited until her breath slowed and her legs were once again willing to take orders. Toilet brush held high in one hand, ignoring the overwhelming desire to take a pee, she slowly opened the bathroom door and peeked out.

Not sure whether she relieved or disappointed, she didn’t see anything. The coast was clear. Sara ran for the front door.

Sitting on the curb of a sidewalk three blocks away from home, toilet brush still in one hand, she dialed her friend.

“Hey,” said Sara when Trish picked up, “where do you want to meet for lunch?”

~~~~~

Sorcha Monk lives in a small town in a desert near a river. She belongs to four dogs who love her, and four cats who occasionally acknowledge her existence but always allow her to feed them. Sorcha used to be a middle school teacher, but now that she has her life back she writes short stories and middle grade novellas, rides a large motorcycle, dabbles in ceramics and reads a lot.