Story 1: We Danced
Footsteps aren't an uncommon thing to hear when you're sitting in a basement, so I think nothing of it when I hear quiet thuds coming from my upstairs hallway. I just assume it was my brother and continue doing whatever pointless little thing I was doing at the time. They go on for another couple minutes and I now was starting to get pissed off. They just keep getting louder and louder and I wonder what the hell my brother's doing this late at night. I mean, it sounds like someone's power walking all over my damn floor.
I sit there and listen as the thumps get faster and wilder. They just keep moving, almost starting to form a rhythm. They move even faster and get even wilder and they're thumping all over my main floor. I realize that whatever this is, it can't be human. No human can move like that.
"What the fuck?!" I finally yell. After that, all the noises stop. Everything is quiet for a moment, and then I hear calm, slow footsteps moving toward my basement door. The door is pushed open and the footsteps stop again. I listen to my breathing for the next three minutes, then sigh, thinking it's over. But it turns out something else was listening, too. Suddenly I hear it thudding down the stairs and I knock my chair over in my haste to stand up. I start to run towards the nearest closet, just in time to see a grotesque, hairless, four-legged creature, dancing towards me, tapping it's swollen feet in an intoxicating rhythm. I dive into the closet and slam the door shut. There's a half-second pause and then I hear that same rhythm on the door.
It's been going on for hours now with no pause, no rests, no relief. And I find myself tapping my fingers along with the song. But then, just as suddenly as it began, it ends. I wait for a few moments, then look out. He's gone. I flip on a light and fall into a chair. It's safe. I relax and think for a few moments. But then I notice my foot tapping. Maybe this song isn't so bad. I almost like it enough to dance to it. So I drop down on my hands and feet, and I start dancing.
Story 2: Your Turn
You can see him in your dreams. This man turned your sleepy little mountain town upside down. And everyone's been abuzz since he arrived. Whenever you think about him, the warm glow of contentment suffuses you. (Why?) This is the type of person you dream of meeting, you dream of being. What is he doing in a nowhere place like this? It doesn't matter, you tell yourself. (Yes it does!) Why look a gift horse in the mouth? The man's done so much for the community, brought you all together. Although, now that you think of it, you can't really of think of what it is exactly that he's done. But the fact that the community's better than ever can't be denied. And who can grudge you a few neighbors for that? In fact, you realize with the tinge of excitement, it's going to be you're turn soon.
You walk to his house (Nest!), even though you know you're early. You can hear Miss. Andrews, the girl from down the street, crying inside. Silly girl always was over-emotional. "Thank you. Thank you." you could hear her say before abruptly cutting off. Her turn now my turn, you think. With a smile on you're face, you rap at the door. After a long moment, the door swings open and the man (No! Men have faces!) opens the door. He gestures you inside and you're struck at first by the odor in his house (Nest!) before he shuffles you over to one of the chairs. Miss. Andrews is sleeping (Dead!) in a nearby chair. Poor girl must've tired herself out. "Is it my turn yet?" you croak. It hurts to speak and you realize you haven't spoken since you met this man. The man (Thing!) nods wordlessly and you realize you've never heard his (It's!) voice. Somehow, that doesn't matter. You smile and despite yourself, you can't help but shed a tear of gratitude. "Thank you." you say in that same rough voice as he (It!) leans closer to you.
You, too, will be host to his eggs.
