Tiny Horror

Deke stood on the threshold, his skin crawling. He began to back away, but a sudden, violent force slammed into the center of his back.

He was propelled forward, stumbling over a drift of rusted electronics. In the chaos of the fall, his hands flew open. The matte-black knife and the heavy industrial flashlight both went flying, skittering across the uneven landscape of trash toward the base of the mound. They vanished into the dark crevices near the Mother's shivering mass. He hit the floor hard, the air driven from his lungs in a sharp grunt. Behind him, the heavy oak door was thrown shut with predatory speed.

SLAM.

The sound was followed by the heavy, metallic slide of a deadbolt. Deke scrambled back to the door, his fingers clawing at the wood until his nails began to split.

"Hey! Open the door!" he screamed, his voice cracking. He hammered his fists against the oak. "Open it! This isn't part of the deal! Take the money! Just let me the hell out of here!"

He heard the rhythmic, receding footsteps of the man in the navy windbreaker. "Please!" Deke sobbed, his forehead against the cold wood. "You don't have to do this! Please!"

Silence was his only answer, broken by a wet, shifting sound from the center of the room. Deke froze. He turned back, and a moment later, a beam of light cut through the dark from the base of the bone-pile. The flashlight had landed at an angle, its beam now pointed upward, illuminating the Mother from below. At the peak of the refuse, she began to stir.

The tale continues...