300 Writing Prompts in 30 Min Forum Prompt#7: Write a thriller/hor..

"What was that?" 

I'm sitting in the third seat, left row, 2nd from the window in Mrs. Hannigan''s 11th-grade Advanced english class. A class I was highly recommended to take but because of my inevitable desire to disappoint everyone who cares about me, I'm the biggest fluke the English department ever invested time and prestige into. 

But none of this matters. This isn't my now. My now lies approximately 12 hours, 5 minutes and 53....54...55...56...seconds ago. 

All that I remember is that my hands were coated in a red, sticky, almost gelatinous substance that I can only liken to strawberry syrup for some reason. It didn't smell as good, however, as I sniffed the air around me only to discover it was muggy and smelt of rotting bubbling flesh. 

I have gotten used to this smell after a job. It was meant that the job was complete, tied up wrapped in a bow, pretty ribbon, gold star and all. But there would be no congratulations in order, no "Yay you did it!" or "We're so proud" of you's. Just a simple scan of the body dumped like a discarded piece of cardboard on to the conveyor belt and then it was on to the next. 

This job was no different. 

To get an idea of what I am, I'd have to go back to the day I discovered the part of myself hidden in my subconscious since birth. Silently waiting for the day I would lose it all, igniting the flame within until it spontaneously combusted and burned my insides so much I had to vomit it out in the form of it taking complete control of me. My eyes rolled back as the demon exercised me, and soon the only interaction I had with the outside world was through the eyes and ears of my demon counterpart, but none of my actions translated into the reality. It's like as if you watched yourself do something stupid on television or you're already deep into a conversation that you are immediately regretting but you can't do anything to stop the trainwreck from happening. 

It keeps happening 

and happening 

and happening 

and happening 

Manically

obsessively 

repeatedly

It took over again, 12 hours, 7 minutes and 39...40....41...42 seconds ago. I believe the person was a middle-aged woman by the name of Charlotte. Charlotte was an average working class American with the cookie .cutter suburban white family, except they weren't suburban or white. In essence, they looked "normal." Too "normal." As if they were trying so hard to assimilate and fit in as to hide in plain sight. But no amount of hiding could mask the truth that Charlotte and her family were different. And not in a "oh she moonlights as a stripper" different but in a "they're actually intergalactic parasites from another dimension" different. And only the organization I work for, the Special Intelligence for Supernatural Creatures, could find this one flaw in their genetic code. 

This certainly couldn't be. The SISNC had to know about every single nonorganic lifeform that graces the human astral plane. Thus, Charlotte and her family became their next new targets. Aka, my new targets. 

Now, if being half demon sound scary and weird and overall a pain in the a*s to deal with and control....it is. I lost dominion over my own body, whom I thought I was in complete control of for the past 17 years but turns out I was just a host body of a parasite sucking the life out of me for exactly that period of time. When I turn, it is a stressful process that has become second nature to me. My skin goes from a slightly alive fleshy color to one of stone and charcoal. Not to mention, my skin itself becomes flakey, as if I hadn't moisturized it in weeks. My eyes roll back, veins for all to see and a black cloud envelopes them, as piercing gold pupils fill the void of my eyeballs. My teeth become razor sharp, ready to bite into the flesh of my demons next meal.

It's here,

it's alive. 

It's scary watching this from inside yourself, not gonna lie. You look and say "wow....thats supposed to me. I mean, it doesn't look like me or act like me or sound, smell, taste like me....but it was me all along." 

*********

I stopped at directly 30 minutes. Its an excerpt from a long-term project I'm working on about a teenaged boy who discovers he's part demon. Sorry if it isn't scary enough :p

                                                                                 It was in the middle of my college year that I understood how city life takes the innocence and purity of people who come here allured by the prospect of charismatic infrastructure, flamboyant night-life and the grimly gay standard of living. Once I had been a guy who would think of giving curses as a sin and taking alcohols and drugs as something so bad that I disgusted people who took them. But now here was I, high on weed and blabbering about something I can't remember. My friend had fallen asleep next to me like a corpse. I was not in the mood to sleep 'cause I was as hungry as a pregnant whale. I went out to have purchase some snacks from the vendors but none was open. Walking like crazy, I walked miles before I stumbled upon something unusual. I had taken a turn along a path and a Chinese food cart came into my view. But you expect a cook swirling the utensils in to and fro motion; not a boy of my age butchering down the man with a long knife. I was too scared to move. When the boy had mauled the owner till his blood left his body, his face turned towards me. I should have cried for help or atleast ran to call the cops. Instead I was paralyzed by his face. It was eerie, his face was blurred in my view. I could only see two ends of the lips in a shape like he was grinning. I fell unconscious. But some strange pain was not ready to leave me. I could see him, the boy without face but now a bit more closely. And then when he had finished his killing he looked at me again, now I could see a little of his hair, and they were in spikes; their color same as mine. I woke up screaming and gave a sigh of relief when I saw that it was just a dream...or rather a nightmare. I went to the bathroom and took a hold of my brush. I was applying the toothpaste when I looked in the mirror, and my clutch on toothpaste became so tight that a large portion of it fell in the sink. Instead of my reflection in the mirror I could see the same boy with same little portion of his hair and lips. I couldn't make a head or tail of it. I tried to clean the mirror but it was of no use. I tried to hit my head with something; this must be a dream, this must be a dream. Wherever I would go the same reflection I could see in all the things that provided reflection of the human body. 

               This time at home, I was alone with the packet of weed and a bong. I smoked a high amount that day. I fell asleep again, but due to restlessness and fear I woke up after a minute or two and I got a call from Ana, my girlfriend. 

"What the hell have you been upto , these past few weeks? No call, nothing."

"I...I was ill"

"And you didn't think it was necessary to tell me. What am I to you?" 

Nothing I wanted to scream You are nothing. You are a f*****g gold-digger. Why after two weeks of isolation do you want to contact me. And you are blaming me again. F**k you!!!! 

"Do have something to say or not. Or now I don't even deserve to be replied"

And the conversation went from bad to worse. 

"I am coming at your house" I said and cut the phone. I had to break up already, I can't continue like this. I turned up near her penthouse and when I tried to knock the door, it was already open. I said "Ana". But the only reply was silence. I went in slowly and heard a faint sound coming from her bedroom. "Ana are you there?" I said " I am coming in". I opened the door slowly and saw fell back stupified. Her face was towards me and she was being raped by someone...someone who was clad in same clothes as me. She was screaming but due to her cold, her voice was loud enough only to reach the boundary of the door of the bedroom. But she didn't looked at me, infact she ignored me like I didn't even existed there. She just screamed "Don't...Don't do it please. You are not like this. I am sorry to have hurt you." So the b***h was double-timing me but before I could try to do something I fell unconscious again and before I descended into darkness I could see him turning his face at me, her rapist or her ex or... but it was the same faceless boy but now his burred face was showing full vie of his grin, his hairs and his ears; that were pointy as same as me. What the hell's happening?  and so a few days went like this. My reflection's blurriness were getting clearer and the most frightening thing was he was beginning to look more and more similar to me. The doses of went went high and more people were murdered in the city who knew me somehow. Especially who had conflict with me somehow. Until one day when I was crying in pain. I was having a bad trip. I had just finished three joints and two rounds of bong. I saw montages, in my sleep in first person perspective of myself going near a chinese food kart and having an argument with the owner who wouldn't make more noodles saying that his stocks were finished. I saw myself taking a knife and mauling him to death, stabbing him mercilessly in the heart and wrenching his gut out. He was gasping for help, screaming for mercy but all I had to give him was death and a wide grin of achievement on my face. Then the scene shifted to my girlfriend's house where I quarreled with her for breakup and she was more than happy to give it. But where's the repayment for all the money I had wasted on your clothes, movies and those meaningless dates. I had to have payback and asked for sex. But she wouldn't agree. Well then I have to take my payment forcibly and I did all those horrible things with her before smothering her face with the pillow. Then the scenes went on shifting from one murder to another. I woke up with pangs of pain in my head and body. I heard something crashing in the toilet. With an out-of-blue reflex, I took the knife from my kitchen and ran to toilet. The mirror was cracked but as I slowly went to check it, the reflection was blurred anymore but it was more than ever cleared. My own image stood in front of me. And I knew it, the flashbacks rammed into my head like an invisible pen-drive of memories have been inserted into me. And with a thump I sat on the toilet seat. I took the knife and held it in my grasp in mid-air. My reflection was said, it was screaming. I took a joint before...I pierced the knife in my heart. How the police never came to caught me, I am clueless. I am dying because I know one thing with absolute certainty. I knew who was the killer. It was me all along.