Like Razors: A Hefty Halloween Story, part 1

****NOTE****

Content Warnings: Gore, Violence, Blood

(Edited for readability and detail, corrected some typos at the end)

He was walking back to his truck when it happened. A massive amount of weight crashed into him from behind. It was like getting slammed by a 450 pound powerlifting linebacker through a memory foam mattress. His eyes bulged as he felt his lungs collapse, the air almost whistled out of him at first before evacuating his lungs in a silent gust forceful enough to make the leaves on the branch above his truck flutter. The sudden jarring crash flattened him against the door of his vehicle and he felt the sheet metal dent inward, his head hit the window. His vision grayed out and he felt something harder pound against his shoulder, there were several piercing points of pain and then he felt constricting pressure. Next he felt a horrible shriveling and draining sensation.

He fought to stay conscious and freed one arm from the weight pinning him to the side of his truck and threw a harsh elbow back into something solid. The jolt echoed through him slamming all the way up to his shoulder, which popped causing another sharp spasm of pain. It felt like he’d dislocated the joint with the ferocity of the blow, then he heard his shirt tear and felt the flesh of his shoulder open and tear as the sharp somethings were pulled away and the massive oppressive weight of…something was driven back. He heard someone yelling and then the scuffle of feet.

James couldn’t believe it, the thing attacking him sounded human!? After what felt like hours, but in reality was less than a second, he managed to force air back into his lungs and pushed his ribs back into something like their normal shape, they felt bruised at the very least. Then he lurched around as something warm and wet pattered onto his face, the substance splattered over his lower jaw and dripped down to his chin. He spat, disgusted, it was blood; not his own. He turned just as there was a frantic scuffling behind him.

Whoever had attacked him was still on his feet, and trying to stay that way. But his assailant’s incredible bulk was making that difficult. He failed as James finally turned to face him and collapsed onto a thorny bush that James had parked beside. With horrendous snapping noises his attacker’s weight crushed the plant’s branches, and then drove those jagged staves through his massive form. James just had time to register the horrible sight of the of his attacker’s nearly mangled form before…with a soft crackling sound like green wood in a fire his attacker turned a dusty gray; blood, flesh, clothing, and all. James found himself looking at what could have been an unpainted clay sculpture of an astonishingly obese man. Then with a sudden rushing sound the massive rotund form of James’s assailant puffed and imploded into a deluge of cold ash and cinders. The cloud rolled out over the bush and covered the ground for several feet around it.

Finally able to feel his lungs again, James let out a horrified yell that he was unable to stop for several seconds. Tears were flowing down his face, his eyes were bulging, and he was shaking, later he was grateful he’d been parked far enough away and the music at the party he’d just left was so loud that no one heard him…at least not anyone that he knew. He collapsed backward against his truck and sank down to the ground staring at the large pile of ash that nearly obscured the entire bush, which might have been a holly but it was impossible to tell in its current state. For one insane moment James found himself hoping that the bush would be alright. All of the branches were broken and jutting out at horrifying jagged angles that made James think of how the…“man” had looked before he’d disintegrated. Suddenly remembering the blood he pawed at his face, his hand came away damp and red. He stared around, only the blood that had still been in contact with the attacker had turned to ash, there were spatters of blood on the ground at his feet and on the side of his truck in addition to the blood on his face.

James sat that way, dazed and shaking staring at his blood covered palm, for a few more minutes before suddenly remembering what would have to be a gaping wound on his back. He pawed spasmodically at his shoulder but, besides some quickly drying blood, his hand came away clean. Starting to hyperventilate, he stared at the ash on the ground before him, slowly stood, and then scrambled into his truck as quickly as he possibly could. Shaking hands rammed his key into the ignition, leaving tacky smears of blood all over the wheel, cranked up and drove away; so desperate in his flight that he stomped the gas and left a few long black tire marks on the road.

He had to get away from there, he had to get home. Every shape that loomed out of the dark made him flinch and shiver. When he had finally returned to the house he rented with a couple friends he’d neglected to brake until right at the driveway, his spinning tires sent up a shower of gravel that thankfully didn’t hit any windows. He didn’t bother trying to straighten his truck out and simply ran into the house and pounded up to his room without looking through any of the doorways he passed. Once he was in his room he finally managed to slow himself, forcing his hand to push the door shut softly. Not that anyone who might be in the house right now wouldn’t be aware that he was back.

He locked it, and immediately turned on all of his lights. He stood in front of his mirror and shakily removed his shirt, it had been one of his favorites with a dragon in chains on the front…but now it had a gaping hole on the back and was caked with dried blood. There was a ring around the edges of the bloodstain that reminded James of grease stains. He shuddered and immediately dropped the garment and twisted around to try and look at his back. He could just barely make out what looked like very old scar tissue which made a ring that James thought was certainly wider than a human mouth had any business being. Something else about his appearance was also bothering him. But, as his adrenaline spike faded he noticed how woozy and weak he felt. He staggered back as a wave of drunken vertigo washed over him, he tumbled backward onto his bed when his shins bumped against it. He was unconscious before his head landed against his pillows.

***

He had strange vivid dreams that night, he recognized no faces and only one place in every fifty. When he awoke his head was pounding as if he’d been drinking heavily the previous night, the dawn light felt like needles in his eyes. His skin started to feel hot, like a horrible sunburn, and he threw himself out of bed and into the floor dragging his bed dressing with him. He pawed at the curtains and managed to yank closed them, his panic from last night was returning. When he looked up at the mirror he was disgusted to see that he still had a large smear of dried blood on his face from when he’d bloodied his attacker’s nose and lips. He levered himself slowly up from the floor, his whole body was aching.

James went to the bedroom door and opened it, looking down the stairs and listening hard. It didn’t sound like his roommates were here. Which hopefully meant that they weren’t here last night either. He hobbled to the bathroom and turned on the shower to let the water get hot. It was only when he looked down at his arm did he remember the offness he’d registered about his body the previous night. Where he’d been a little hefty, and one might even say plump or chubby, the night before…he barely had a paunch this morning. His arms were thinner, he could see his veins in them clearly. And when he finally paused to study his torso, he could see his topmost ribs. His heart was hammering as he remembered the ring around the blood stain and was reminded again of the kind of spots that grease from fast food leave in dark fabric.

His horrified mind tried to follow that thought to its logical progression but the rational side of him balked and shut down all thought processes not related to getting ready for and then taking his shower. He undressed numbly and stepped into the water and scrubbed. James scrubbed his face until it was raw, he scrubbed until he thought he might draw blood and only at that point did he stop. He scrubbed his back obsessively for several minutes, almost gouging at the place on the back of his shoulder where the scar had been; and then when he felt he was clean, his body raw and pink looking from the heat of the water and obsessive scrubbing, he just stood numbly under the water until he could feel the hot water didn’t feel so hot anymore.

The rapidly cooling water jarred him out of his fugue and he got out of the shower hastily. “Oh, shit…” He murmured, shivering despite the heat and humidity in the bathroom. He grabbed his bathrobe; and shuffle kicked his jeans, underwear, shoes, and socks ahead of him.

“I hope no one needs a shower when they get back.” He murmured aloud to no one in particular as he kicked the small bundle of clothing ahead of him toward his bedroom door. This would be the third time in a week that he’d used up all the hot water, and that meant a week of solo common area cleaning as penance if Annie or Victor wanted to shower when they returned.

He smiled a little bit as he closed the door to his room behind him. That he could worry about something as mundane as using up all the hot water when others might need a bath was comforting somehow. Even if it would ruin the mood for Game Night tonight. His eyes suddenly flashed open wider, he’d forgotten about game night! He wasn’t sure he could be around people right now…not after…he shook himself.

“Nothing happened…nothing happened…nothing happened…” James walked through his room muttering in a shaky tone with his eyes casted downward, still shuffling his clothes ahead of him until a misplaced kick caused his pants to unroll and the sneakers he’d been wearing the night before flopped out. They were gray with ash. He shivered and felt his gorge rise. He snatched up the sneakers and rubbed the dust off of them with shaking hands and then lobbed the ruined t-shirt he’d used to do it into the trash. He felt numb again, every time he thought he would feel more normal something seemed poised to make him want to scream. James sat on the end of his bed and forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly until he felt marginally less insane.

Then…He heard a door open and close downstairs. “Fuck…” He breathed and hurried to get dressed again.

To Be Continued