A story written by Caity from "Grouchy Robutts" on Tumblr, as an answer to a request I made.
Sweet Treat
Michael stood in front of the mirror, transfixed by his own dishevelled appearance. Work had been… difficult recently. He took in the appearance of his face, the white of his eyes sinking into black, the greying skin, the unkempt hair. He really did look like shit.
Michael continued to stand there, teetering on the heels of his feet. He felt light headed, like a thick fog had settled in his skull. The fog seemed to creep into his vision, but Michael was unfazed by it all. He'd been hitting the bottle rather heavily earlier in the evening, his drunken mind was probably just messing with him, conjuring images that weren't really there.
A light sound, almost like a hushed whisper, drew his attention back to the mirror. He startled at the piercing blue eyes staring back at him.
"D-Dahlia?" His voice sounded choked, the taste of bile rising to the back of his throat. He didn't know what the wretch wanted, but it couldn't possibly be anything good. The old woman grinned, her thin lips pulling back almost unnaturally far, crooked yellow teeth bared in a menacing grin. Dahlia raised one ashen hand and crooked her finger.
Michael couldn't tell if the sound she made was another whispered temptation, or perhaps a low hiss. He found himself leaning in, curious as to what she wanted of him now. He was so close now, his ear only a breath away from the glass.
Dahlia's arms shot out, too quick for Michael to escape. He desperately tried to scramble backward, but woman's hands latched onto his wrist like a vice, viciously yanking him forward and into the darkness. The last thing he saw was her snarling maw.
Michael could feel the air get knocked out of his lungs when his back made impact. Everything felt so cold, and for a moment he feared he had died. Instead, when he finally found the courage to open his eyes and look upon what had to be his mangled corpse, he instead looked up into the face of the little girl, Alessa.
Michael could feel his heart skip, fingers digging into the freezing substance he found himself lying in. He tore his hand back as if he had been burned, eyes going wide at the sticky substance covering his palm. Ice cream? Wide eyes glanced back up at Alessa, and Michael could feel his panic rising when her mouth opened, pearly teeth descending on the sweet treat.
He managed to drag himself away, his feet slipping out from beneath him and sending him sprawling. Alessa pulled back, a dollop of ice-cream sticking to her nose. Michael watched, horrified, as he was stuck to her nose and carried even higher into the air. The girl's enormous eyes went cross, zeroing in on his trembling form.
"S-stop! Please stop!" Michael tried pleading with her. He didn't deserve this! Dahlia was the one that wanted the girl kept alive like this. Yes, he wasn't at fault! He didn't deserve this torment! Alessa only seemed amused by his apparent turmoil, her eyes crinkling with mirth.
Michael cried out when he found himself being swept off of his perch, hands scrambling to once again find purchase as he was thrust back into darkness. He was going to be eaten alive! A weak sound escaped his mouth. It was something between a cry of pain and a plea for forgiveness, but it was cut short when the girl closed her mouth, effectively cutting of any means of escape.
Michael could feel the air around him thicken, choking the air from his lungs. His eyes stung and the sound of blood rushing to his head was deafening. This time, he thought for sure he'd open his eyes to the fiery mountains of hell.
The soothing voice of one of his nurses quietly drew him out of unconsciousness. Her voice sounded concerned, probably asking if he was alright, but Michael was too distracted. Was that just a dream then, or was it a warning? He couldn't help but think that something terrible was about to happen. Distractedly, he ordered the nurse to check on the girl in the basement.