The Door (daily micro edition)

Author's note: I expanded my challenge submission slightly to make this. Please don't read both, the guilt I will feel at ripping off your eyes (no, not like that) simply isn't worth it.

+

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

No matter how long Daddy was shut in there, or how eldritch the screams. Piercing the night, and rising and falling. Stitching pain to the darkness itself.

I used to sit staring at the door, hugging my knees with goosefleshed arms. Sometimes, with Babbit tucked under one arm, I clamped my hands over her ears to shut out the awful wails, but I never left my post.

What could make such sounds? What kind of teeth and claws went with a noise like that? Fearsome. Razor-sharp. What kind of throat were they ripped from, and worse, what could possibly do the ripping?

Daddy always came out eventually. Tired-looking. Pushing his little round glasses up his nose, or else taking them off and cleaning spots of blood of them. I'd seen wiping the last of it from his hands and wrists with a rag.

I almst felt sorry for the monsters. I imagined him pushing his hands into them, pulling out their insides. Plucking their hearts like strawberries. Chopping the secret parts of them with shiny silver knives.

Daddy never looked like a beast-killer. He was tall, thin and neat. He wrote lots of notes in cramped script. When he wasn't slaying beasts, he read me stories, and then kissed me on my forehead and the tip of my nose.

Sometime, I worried what might came out. Would he win again? Would a giant brute burst through the door, splintering the frame and bearing down on her? Or... would something Daddy-shaped emerge?

...Had that happened already?

One time, I'd heard a baby cry. Is that how he did it? I imagined the Creature crunching on its legs, and was nearly sick. He came out when he heard me crying, and laughed. "Come on," he said. "Come and see." He pushed the door wide, and I tiptoed in. It wasn't a monster. It was a lady, and the baby still had both legs. Both arms, too.

I stopped worrying, but I still waited by the door, waiting for a peek at the miracle. My spine tingled when it went quiet, and then something dark and tarry started seeping out under the door.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Author's note (reprise)

Word count: 366

(NB. This excludes the title, subtitle, and author's note.)

Submitted on Monday 14th October at 22:43

A Year of Stories: I'm writing (and submitting, here) a story every day this year. This continues my 288 daily micro-fiction story streak since 1st January.

ONLY SEVENTY-EIGHT DAYS TO GO!

Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Thank you

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and I am extremely grateful for your ongoing support.

Thank you to those who leave feedback/comments. Bear with me while I catch up on reads (I will have much more time to do this at the end of the coming week. In the meantime, I do appreciate your eyes!)

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

This is my latest dollar challenge. Please have a look.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Thank you again!