2024-08-20

homepage.content

@@ -1050,6 +1050,64 @@ pre { /* DRY who? */
 }
 
 
+/blah/2024-08-20.html
+
+: story p1
+
+One summer evening about a year ago, I was sitting next to Tracy watching
+television when there came a terribly loud series of knocks on our door. I got
+up to go find out who it was when Tracy silently raised a hand, reminding me I
+couldn't answer. She walked over to the door and was about to undo the lock
+when the knocks turned to thuds.
+
+I ran, as silently as I could, to the door and grabbed the aluminium baseball
+bat from the small coat closet across the narrow hall. I positioned myself to
+the right of the door, the opposite side from the hinges, and readied the bat
+before nodding at Tracy. She shook her head. Still - thud! Thud! Thud! She
+squinted through the peephole and looked back at me and shrugged. She raised
+her fingertips to the deadlock.
+
+"Ah!" she let out a yelp as her fingers contacted the wooden door. I didn't
+understand why at first but as she withdrew her hand from the door I noticed
+the residue, or film, or syrup, or some sort of non-Newtonian fluid that was
+following her index finger, like a string of melted cheese following a piece of
+pizza. "It's melting."
+
+"The door?" I asked before I realized. The door had a matte, waxy texture to
+it - a texture I hadn't really seen since dropping acid. The deadlock and
+doorknob both began - subtly, or perhaps it was my imagination - to fall down
+the fluid and the top of the doorway started falling backwards, outwards.
+Little red drops, colored by the paint, presumably, crawled towards us along
+the surface like drops of water on a shower wall. "How is that possible?"
+
+The thuds stopped. Tracy and I looked at each other. Tracy looked uneasy. Then
+her eyes widened and as I turned around, swinging my bat with me, I watched
+pitch black fingers gripping the door from the top peel it from the wall, then
+blend into the inky darkness that had replaced our usual lit porch. The bat
+slipped from my grip and was flung into the darkness, landing about 10 meters
+away at the same height of our apartment floor despite our living on the fourth
+story of this building.
+
+"I'm calling the police. Something's wrong. Something's really wrong."
+
+Tracy started toward the phone but I grabbed her sleeve. "Please. We can figure
+this out."
+
+She looked into my eyes and held her gaze there before slightly smiling. A
+quiet: "Okay."
+
+I went over to the kitchen window. I could still see the bright, yellow night
+sky polluted by the thousands of streetlights below. I opened the window and
+took the screen out. Tracy waited behind me, watching the doorway. I crawled
+out onto the porch and helped her make her way with me. All seemed normal. We
+crept to the front door of the apartment. I turned the corner to the entrance
+but nearly ran into a man, dressed in a suit and tie, sitting on a folding
+chair outside our intact, red door. I could feel the blood leave my face.
+
+Behind me, Tracy gasped as she found us. The man stood and looked me in the
+eyes. His irises were gray.
+
+
 /blah/2024-08-14.html
 
 My blah has made my life worse. That's why I publish rare, clumped updates - I