I Do Like Pasta

by dootdootsnoteleks My dad would always tell me that monsters weren't real. There was nothing in the closet, no one's outside my bedroom window, and the only thing under my bed is the pile of clothes I shoved there when I was supposed to clean my room. And I believed him. I really did.

But now I'm not so sure.

I was at the park with some friends when I saw him. His body was one one side of the tree, but his head was peeking out from about the other side. It seemed as if his neck wrapped around the entire trunk. His claw- like fingers clutched the bark; thick black liquid dripped from the scratch marks. The weird thing was, he was staring right at me.

I tried to ignore him, hoping he would just up and leave. But he didn't. In fact, his presence was ever- pressing the longer I tried. I thought maybe I should go talk to him.

That was one of the worst decisions I ever made.

As I grew nearer, it was clear that something was amiss. The way his neck was bent, the way his body shook, the blank stare in his eyes... it was all very unsettling. The lower part of his body seemed rather normal- he was dressed in a white button- up shirt and maroon sweater vest. His khakis seemed perfectly ordinary, aside from splotches of the same black ooze dripping from his fingers. The most disconcerting thing, however, was his neck. At every point it bent, the skin was stretched thin to almost a translucent point. The skin itself seemed patched together, as if someone had sewn pieces of flesh from a hundred different people together and slapped it on this monstrosity. There were several ragged, scratched areas about his neck. From time to time, he would shake, the parts in his neck and hands violently convulsing. Something drew me nearer to him, despite every fiber in my body telling me to run.

I asked him if he was alright. If he needed any help. If his neck was alright and did I need to call the hospital. He responded only with strange, guttural gurgles. Pardon me, I asked, what is it you said? I couldn't tell what he said next but it sounded vaguely like "noodle". He points his finger at me, I come closer, even though I need to run, to get out, to be anywhere but here. His disgusting claws are on my chest, digging into my flesh, tearing my shirt. The viscous substance on his hand mixes with my blood, gushing over my shirt, covering it in a deep red.

I'm not sure why I didn't move.

I'm sorry sir, I say. I'm not sure I can help you.

His neck is untwined from about the tree. It's very long. I remain rooted in place, but this time he moves closer to me. I don't know where my friends are. I can taste his ragged breath. He smells rotten, like decaying flesh and old meat. He's on all fours, crawling towards me, his neck still twitching uncontrollably from side to side. I don't move. My, what big teeth he has.

I can't move.

I sneeze.

Everything goes black.

I can see again. He's on top of me. His mouth gushes with black ooze. My arms are pinned to the side, he's got them held down by his claws, his disgusting drippy bloody claws, i can't feel my legs i feel like i cant breathe theres something on my neck i dont know what to do i cant feel my legs i cant breathe things are going dark i dont know what to do someone please help me

i cant feel my neck

i dont know where it went. i think ive lost it.

my neck is gone. i cant breathe. he's not here anymore, my friends are gone, there's no one left.

it's getting late. i'd better head home.

02/14/19