The Non-Human
Fiction — A supernatural thriller short story
The glint of light shone through the hallway window as a pungent sweaty odour came from a cluttered rack of coats in the corner. I stood still, taking in my surroundings. The dark walls and black floors illuminated the dread. I was transported to something unpleasant.
A stiffness left my fingers as I touched the hot radiator. The warmth entered my veins and I slid long nails along my scalp. Clasping and grabbing skin along the side of my head like I was petting a pet, alleviated my dark senses.
Seeing his rugged smirk again clouded my judgment. I saw him walk on with an air of confidence into a bright flowery walled living room. I saw the ripple of his wide broad shoulders as he moved towards the dimming sunlight coming from a square window. I glided toward him. I wanted something from him and I was hoping it would be here, in this musky chilly house. I was going to take it from him but first I had to find it.
These last few weeks, we had laughed whilst sitting in a pub or a restaurant with others. I sensed something eerie as my bony fists stiffened. Our first meeting had been unreal but our second had been a reality. My computer failed to work on my first day at work in London. Becky, my co-worker, had called Jack, the computer guy.
