You are awoken by a scream. The residual sound waves from the scream weigh heavily on your body, long sunken into the too soft mattress. What do you do? Do you try turning over and return to your slumber, and let the night auditor, who is surely around, to deal with the terrifying sounds? Or do you get up and knock on the neighbour’s door, asking ‘are you okay in there’?
The thin veiny skin of your eyelids are stabbed by the piercing light seeping through the crack of the door. Your conscious prickles – fine, I’ll get up.
Stealthily, you creep through the hallway: the place is even creepier by night. You reach the door and knock on its hardwood surface. Unnervingly, it isn’t properly closed. It swings open under your fist, banging against the wall: your fear-filled knock may have been harder than you intended.
No one responds.
Are you walking into a murder scene? You can still turn back.
But curiosity has control of you now.
Stepping into the room, a foul sight meets your eyes. A withering mass of flesh and fluids tumble around upon the giant king bed: it is impossible to tell where one body ends and the next three begin.
You’ve always been a liberal person, after all – love is love and free the nipple and all that, but this is… what nightmares are made of. The bodies fold in upon each other, a circling mass of moans and dripping liquids.
As much as you want to back away, the movement is hypnotic.
As your feet drag you forward and each piece of clothing drops from your body, you let out a shriek.
As your body touches the mass upon the bed and is piece by piece sucked in, you let out a low moan.
On Dit 