Straight from Hell
He ran. He ran as fast as his legs let him. Face white, eyes bloodshot, he ran. The thing- the thing in his house, the thing with red eyes and gleaming steel teeth, it had seen him.
As he ran, he could hear the clicking of metal, the sound of the creature scraping its teeth together, sharpening them for the inevitable as it closed in on him.
His feet hit the damp soil with purpose as he sprinted through the woods, dislodging loose branches and waking up the long-sleeping elm trees. He knew the thing would catch up to him soon. He knew he had nowhere to go. His vision blurred. His heart pumped with an abnormal ferocity, and he knew he had but a few seconds left before the creature pounced on him and tore him apart with those- oh, those terrifying sharp teeth.
In the few seconds he had, he remembered. He remembered the creature's eyes. They shone red, and he could see blackness behind them, surrounded by a white unlike he had seen before. He knew immediately that this creature was not from a world he knew. He didn't believe in the supernatural, but being chased by a creature straight from the depths of Hell made him question his beliefs a little.
As he gave up, he began to see. As the creature tackled him to the ground, he saw. He saw the hands, the deformed, melted, rubbery hands that gripped him in a vice. He saw the face, the demonic, humanoid face, with blades for teeth. The creature smiled at him, and he saw what lay behind the teeth, and he feared for more than his life. He feared the things that lay beyond this life.
As he drifted into unconsciousness, as the pain engulfed him like a fire, as he closed his eyes to accept the inevitable, he no longer saw, and yet he heard.
He heard what it said.
"It's time for your shots", said Doctor Goodman.