Green GooA Story by Alexander Rodgers The first horror story I ever wrote Green Goo
August 23, 2008 is when it happened. Ray Jackson stepped through the door of his small apartment after a regular days work. He let it shut itself with a click. He wore his white collar button up, his fine black hair combed over, briefcase tucked between fingers, exhausted from the day. The briefcase was set beside the door in its rightful place, not to be tampered with unless absolutely need be. A deep sigh echoed in the dark, this repetition was killing him slowly, draining the life out of him like a siren. The business world was too harsh, too demanding, didn’t allow creativity, the passion inside him. He lusted to paint, draw with granite, form clay figures lifelike and eerie, create. He couldn’t help but doodle on some of the memes he printed off each day. It helped stifle the boredom and restlessness. His own plan had been in the works, but he didn’t know where to start. He flipped on the light. After changing, he phoned his mother, the only one left. At least she cared, at least she listened. The loneliness inside this apartment could be crippling. The conversation was brief, ‘’Hey mom.’’ He said. ‘’Ray? How was our day dear? Did it go well?’’ She was getting old, her voice cracked with every other syllable and phlegm formed in her throat. She cleared it. He gave the usual response, ‘’It was fine ma. Same old song and dance, ya know?’’ The conversation lasted for a few short minutes, but nothing of importance was discussed. The receiver slammed down. With that over with, he headed to the kitchen, his stomach growling at him in anger. No professional cooking blossomed in his kitchen, only cold sandwiches and microwavable meals. He tossed two hot pockets on a paper plate and shoved them into the microwave. Direct beeps sounded as he hit two minutes, and the hum followed. It wasn’t much, but it would settle him. He fixed a glass of orange juice while he waited, sipping on it every few seconds, letting the pulp get stuck between his teeth and the tangy taste refresh. When the three continuous beeps raged out, he reached in and fetched the scorching hot plate, steam escaping the microwave, dirtying his glasses. He would clean them later. Stepping into the living room he set the plate down, and flicked on the lamp. He plopped into his welcoming recliner, leaned back and pulled the lever. His legs were lifted from the ground, suspended to relax. A hand grasped the clicker, and a moment later the TV blared. He took the plate from the side table and began to eat. ‘’Same TV, same channel, here we go again.’’ He said lamely. He always watched channel seven at 6:00 P.M. for the news while he ate his sloppy meals. A flutter flicked near the lamp. A movement underneath the carpet. It came and went with no less than two seconds, but the shape was round, like an exercise ball. Ray dropped the pizza hot pocket he was in the process of biting into. Was it a ghost? Could it be something supernatural? No, this building was new; no way could it be haunted. Perhaps his tired mind tricked him into seeing it. He thought for a moment and decided this was the case. But it happened again. Bigger this time. The carpet wretched like an ocean wave four feet above. Ugly brown swam before his eyes, standing unnatural horror. It slowly went towards him. He flung his plate at it, and a squishy plop replied. It hunched back a moment, a tiny dent showed where the plate hit. It folded into itself and disappeared. He rose to investigate. Stumbling over to the spot where the carpet acted up he stood, confused by the scene. He touched the rough briskly surface, goosebumps hugging his flesh. It appeared fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Behind him, a slurping noise sounded. He twisted around and stared at the carpet, it was back, creeping towards him. His feet backed away, almost tripping on the plate he tossed. Terror settled in him, how could he make it go away? It was real, he came to this conclusion. His eyes stalked around the room. The tall lamp caught his eye. Without second thought, he grasped it and prepared to defend. The floor was only a few feet away. He harshly yanked the cord from the wall, dimming the light to only the overhead. He held it high, waiting. Like an over-sized hunchback it came, would it hurt him? He didn’t care to find out. He jabbed it once, twice, with the butt end of the lamp, yelling while doing so. The third time he cracked down on it with the head, shattering the glass dome. It let out a horrifying shriek. What was it? He hit it again and again until finally it swelled down, hidden somewhere. His knees buckled from the terror. ‘’What’s happening!?’ He confessed to himself. He noticed a detail. The spot where he hit the thing decorated in a pool of slimy green booger substance. Like bile. It smelled like a sewer and if he touched it he was afraid it would stick to his hand like goo. He examined anyway. Carefully with one finger, he dabbed it. It was indeed disgusting, and the smell alone forced him to back away. He regretted touching it, it was violating. ‘’I’ll call you green goo.’’ He told the carpet creature. He knew it was around somewhere. His diner was ruined, his entire night, so much for relaxation. Now all he wanted was peace from this Green Goo. There weren’t enough towels in his bathroom to clean up the mess it regurgitated on his living room carpet. Getting rid of it probably wasn’t easy, but Ray was determined. He desired to phone his mother back and spill to her of the encounter. Deciding against it was the best option; she didn’t need to hear about it. And it could sneak up on him while he was talking, that wouldn’t be ideal. This was his problem, his conflict. As the dish soap danced around the dirty plate thoughts of Green Goo swam in his mind. It would return, this he knew. It was such an abstract idea. No longer questioning its existence, not asking why, but violated by its presence, he would rather have a ghost lurking in his living room rather a slimy sneaky creature. An idea sprouted. What if he tricked it? He was no magician, but was manipulation possible? He smirked shyly and liked what his brain showed him. When the scrubbing was done, he ventured back to the comfy chair. A yelp escaped his lips as he realized the pile of regurgitation and foreign liquid was vacant. Just gone. He quickly slashed out the factor, wouldn’t allow himself to fall into its own tricks. Hands of the clock sped by, and soon It was time for rest. Tiptoeing his way to the bedroom, his senses sharpened like a beast. Slipping on the loose sleeping wear had felt warming, safe. The bathroom light illuminated and he began to shave his stubble and brush his teeth. As his gaze took the mirror, shame stared back. After shaving, his tooth brush went back and forth through his mouth. A movement caught his eye in the mirror, and that’s when he noticed the Goo. It dripped from the shower nozzle, plopping onto the tub with a sick and wet smack. Its color was dark. Underneath the plastic tub, a disturbing noise echoed. The sound of fingernails scraping a chalkboard, a fork on a plate, the short cut voice of a child, everything else unimaginable. Ray had no idea, but could it be sleeping? This had to be its home, under the bath, were all the crust and mold and dirty water and saliva and body flakes gather. Terrified, he darted from the room. The door slammed. ‘’Calm down. My god calm down.’’ He told himself. He flew into the bedroom and latched the lock. He swallowed two pills to speed up the process of slumber. Soon enough, he drifted off, having a nightmare of being engulfed in the blubber, becoming a part of the horror. A single tear fell from his eye in sleep.
After work the following day, there was no time to mess around. Not even enough to phone his mother, that would have to wait. No dinner either. He already formulated a plan. He calmly sat in the comfy chair watching the news, waiting for it to show. Acting as if nothing happened could surely help. That’s exactly what Ray did. The carpet rose, lurking at him, making its sound, and it was faster. ‘’I’ve got you this time!’’ He shouted, sprinting around it and into the bedroom. Fetching the hunting knife under his bed sent a jolt of hope. The sheath fell to the ground and it sparkled in the light, a sharp blade of nastiness. There was no way of telling the weapon’s effectiveness against the Goo; but it was worth a try. Back in the living room. The Goo rose and fell periodically like a hyperactive being. Ray waited, his plan was coming together. He slid into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. Panic washed over as the door shuddered on its hinges. Bang, bang, bang! After the fourth time the banging subsided. He tightened his grip on the knife. Another bang, but not from the door, from underneath the tub. This is what he wanted, being sure he held the upper hand, like an intense game of poker, but there was no need for false faces. There was nowhere to run, for him nor Green Goo. The floor of the tub continued to breathe fiercely. He studied the tub rise, memorizing the rhythm. Up, down, up, down. It was the perfect time to strike. Up; Ray dove at the tub striking down with the knife, aiming at the center of the plastic. The blade pierced through and into the thing. A curdling shriek emerged from its bowels. He jabbed again and again, and disgusting slime flew everywhere. Suddenly, a new plan revealed. The Green Goo always stayed away when he was around water. Last night with the dishes, it was nowhere to be found. While brushing his teeth and shaving, the creature slept. Its weakness was water. How ironic, he thought. He gashed apart the plastic floor of his tub. Cutting and peeling as quickly as possible, soon the monster was visible. He screamed. The creature hunched, a grotesque glob of foreign things, stuck together by goo and slime. A single rounded black eye floated in its middle, gazing at him. He’d seen enough. A single swift motion and Ray twisted the handle marked H. Scolding water jetted through the bottomless tub. The sizzle charred its slimy skin, smoke trailing above it and into Ray’s face. It didn’t take long to disintegrate it. Nothing remained but a boring pile of green slime, a dead black eye floating somewhere, staring lifeless at nothing. ‘’That was close.’’ He said.
So it was gone, he solved the mystery, at least to his capabilities. In a way it helped him, pushed him to change his life. The things he starved for he now pursued. At first it may not be a good change, but it was something. He buried those nights deep in his mind, praying it would never come back. Left behind that awful apartment, and settled for something modern. Ray was no longer a business man, but a painter of portraits and nature, a color spinner. Once he began to paint something without thinking, however soon he knew what he was painting, the Goo. It frightened him to the point of setting his oil work to flame, letting it transform to ash. Would no such creature bother him again? He sincerely hoped. But that’s really all he could do… © 2013 Alexander RodgersAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
Stats
1412 Views
4 Reviews  Last Updated on April 19, 2013 Tags: Horror, Suspense, Short Story, Dark, Monster Author
Alexander RodgersRoscoe, ILAboutI always found a deep satisfaction and theriputic sense in writing; my work allows me to imagine what simply can not be in reality. Aside from writing, I'm a musician, and an overall laid back fellow... more..Writing
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
