Stepping out for a Smoke

This is based on something I experienced last night. Except when I had heard the noise I was already going inside. I'm pretty sure it was just a horse whinnying though.

            The door creaked as it was slowly pulled open. Scott kept still, his hand tightly wrapped around the brass doorknob. Cringing at the whine of the opening door, he stood still, listening intently for any movement above him. Silence. He took a shallow breath and quickly pulled the door open just enough to slip through the doorway. He kept his grip on the doorknob as he sidestepped into the chilly October night, gently closing the door behind him. There was a click as the bolt secured itself. He once again went still, shortening his breaths, waiting for any movement from the floor above. Besides the sound of the TV, there was silence.

            Scott turned around to face the door he just passed through. He looked up at the large living room window above him, the light from the ceiling fixture trickling out of the window and poorly illuminating his face. A curtain covered the majority of the window, but it was pulled back just enough to allow a curved triangular view of the warm room behind it. Scott stood still for a few seconds longer, making sure no one was going to get up and look out the window to investigate that sound they might have heard from the basement.

            Once he was sure no one had noticed anything, he reached into the left pocket of his jeans and withdrew a small blue Neon lighter, not the kind with the uncomftorable wheel that builds callouses on the thumb, but the kind with a metal top that’s pulled down on one side, opening up the other side, sparking gas that is released through the uncovered hole.

He held the lighter tightly in his right hand, making sure not to drop it into the grass as he used his left hand to pull the zipper of his brown jacket down a few inches, revealing the thin white dress shirt with narrow blue and red stripes he was wearing underneath it. He reached into the left breastpocket of the shirt and retrieved a pack of Marlboro Reds. He pulled the top of the pack backward and unfolded the silver foil that cradled the few cigarettes he had left. Reaching in with two shaking fingers, he pinched the end of a cigarette and drew it from the pack. Folding the foil back up and closing the small red and white pack, he put the brown filtered end of the Marlboro into his mouth and slid the pack of his remaining Marlboros back into his breastpocket.

            Scott zipped his jacket back up, shivering from the brisk weather that was only exascerbated by the brilliant idea of stepping outside when the sun was completely gone. He put the lighter up to the tip of the cigarette and pulled the top of the lighter down. Nothing. He let out an irritated breath that hung briefly in the air before dissipating. Scott tilted the lighter at an angle, pulling back on the top again. A small flame slid from the lighter, dwindling in the cold breeze. He leaned in, the tip of the cigarette lightly touching the flame. Scott puffed until he was sure the Marlboro was lit. He took his thumb off from the top of the lighter, killing the flame whilst blowing out the smoke. He always blew out that first puff. Slipping the lighter back into his pocket, he closed his eyes as he took a drag.

            Scott looked around, peering off into the darkness. He looked back up at the window above him, and decided it would be best if he moved off where there was no chance he could be caught. With cigarette snug between his index and middle fingers on his right hand, he walked off to his left. Strolling toward the small house that used to dominate the property his family moved into before they had a larger house built, he took another drag from the cigarette, enjoying the sweet, smokey taste.

            He stopped underneath the deck of the small house, putting his back up against a cracked brick wall, relaxing. He closed his eyes, placing the cigarette back into his mouth, puffing on the tobacco-stuffed roll of paper. The lit cigarette burned brightly, only for a few seconds, but long enough to attract attention from the black abyss that was the night.

            Scott leaned against the brick wall, smoking for a few more minutes. Finally he reached the filter. Relaxed, he dropped his arm to his side, the smoldering filter of the cigarette loosely hanging between his fingers. He pushed himself off the wall and stabled himself, slowly walking back toward the basement door. As he walked out from underneath the deck, a low growl emanated from the darkness behind him. Or maybe from his right. From his left? Scott stopped in midstep, looking around, trying to find the source of the noise. A small bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face, despite the bitter wind that was slowly picking up.

            He began to walk toward the door again, this time faster and much more alert. He reached the door without hearing the sound again. It’s dark, cold, my mind’s just f****n’ with me. He took the cigarette and pushed it against the siding of the house, smothering the bits of fire still burning the filter. He grasped the doorknob with his left hand, wincing at the touch of the freezing metal. Quietly turning the doorknob, nonchalantly spreading his fingers, releasing the smoked Marlboro from his loose grip, he put his weight into the door, anticipating the welcoming warmth of the house.

            Scott’s head smacked into the door, his hand falling from the doorknob, the cigarette flying from his fingers. He stumbled backward, his surroundings blurry. Dropping to his knees, he cradled his head in his hands, feeling warm, sticky blood trickle out from underneath his head’s cracked skin. There was another deep growl, this time it definitely came from behind him, but much closer.

            Scott wavered back and forth on his knees, forcing himself to turn around. He fell onto his side, pulling his hands away from his head, looking up at what hit him. The light from the living room had been extinguished, his parents most likely gone to bed. A pair of small white eyes stared down at him. Scott immediately noticed the lack of pupils. What the f**k... Scott pushed himself away from whatever was in front of him, putting his back up against the wall, crushing the filter of the cigarette underneath him. The blood was flowing in rivulets down his face, getting in his eyes, further obscuring his vision. He opened his mouth to yell for help, but the creature seemed to be ready for such an action. A clawed hand reached out and slashed his face, tearing off chunks of flesh, showering the ground and the house’s light blue siding with droplets of blood.

            Scott tried to scream for help, but a numbing sensation washed over his mouth. His tounge couldn’t move. He put his hands up to his mouth, feeling the torn texture of his lips and cheeks against his freezing fingers. He started to breathe harder, trying to scramble to his feet. Another claw slashed at him, shredding his smoking hand. Scott dropped to his side again, tears rolling down his face, and whispered screams escaping from his mouth.

            Scott looked up into the solid white eyes of his attacker. The creature bent down, leaning inward and putting its face only inches from his. It had a short snout, slightly smaller than a dog, and when it opened its mouth it revleaed rows of sharp, bloody teeth with small bits of flesh dangling from them. Scott’s face contorted with horror as the creature stretched out its claws, pinning him to the ground. It reeled its head back, opening its mouth wider.

            Scott felt the lighter pushing into his thigh, and for some reason, that was all he concentrated on as the creature dug into his neck.

 

Author's Note

It's pretty short, and I'm not entirely sure if I want to extend it or not. This whole thing sounded better in my head, so I might end up rewriting it to try and capture the vision of it I had in my head.

Reviews

[James Watts]

I would say extend this. This was a nice and creepy piece of writing. I would love to see it expanded upon, and if so, would love to see a request when it is done.

[ilurvekinilaw]

Creepy s**t, man. Now I don't want to go out of the house at 2am for a smoke. Seriously. The tense buildup was good, deliberate, though I've been thinking at the back of my head, "Oh f**k, he'd better go in before something bites his head off." The ending was a tad predictable but you have the right buildup down to pat. XD