#105 Cohabitation

by Amber McGlothlin

Lori lay in a frozen panic, a gaping maw inches from her face. Sharp tendrils extended from its edges, dripping with an unidentifiable slime.

She had been reluctant to move in with her boyfriend, Spencer, and this was her first night in their apartment. Before going to sleep, he’d said to her, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, don’t feed my friend under the bed.” Then he’d kissed her on the forehead and turned to face the wall.

She had laughed at the time.

It was around 2:30 a.m. when Lori had awoken to the feeling of hot breath on her face, and thinking it was Spencer, casually brushed him away. But it wasn’t Spencer, and she opened her eyes to see what must be his “friend” undulating rhythmically, its briery digits pointing into a mouth apparently begging for food.

Two tense hours had passed since then, and growing more trepidatious by the second, Lori made the decision to disregard Spencer’s advice. Grabbing an apple from her purse on the floor, she tossed it into the orifice in front of her, and was immediately sorry, as the monstrosity reared back and howled, spewing goo all over the ceiling.

Spencer sat up, sighed, and tossed a shoe at the creature, which retreated under the bed with a whimper.

“I told you not to feed him,” he said, rolling back over. “You’re cleaning that up tomorrow.”