Nightmare Fuel 2021 - Day the Second

 

The Long Way Home

You take the long way home from school, along the backroads. You always told your mother that it was because the noise of the busier street bothers you, and she always pretends to believe you.

The truth is that you don't know who will be home today. Which monster.

The first time was weeks ago. You remember standing out in the yard, kicking a soccer ball against the house. The tall grass of the lawn worn to dirt patches where you stood, twelve yards from the side of the house. You'd paced it, to be sure. Your mother's voice through the kitchen window "You've lost your goddam mind". 

You stopped kicking. He'd lost his mind? Was your father a zombie, a shambling undead creature with no thoughts, feeding on brains? You stayed out until darkness had fallen, until you could barely see the ball. 

When you finally came in to dinner at the kitchen table (the dining room was only for Sundays or holidays) his mind was indeed gone - he ate with an absent-minded, glassy-eyed stare. Didn't say anything. Spent the last part of the meal scaping a line of crumbs out of the table's central joint with the tiny pocket screwdriver he always carried. He didn't say good night when you excused yourself to bed.

Then there was the time he'd lost his senses. That was worse. His eyes were glassy, he barely picked at his dinner. He must have lost his sense of taste as well. 

"Are you going to eat your food or just stare at it?" You almost reflexively answer "I'm eating", but she wasn't looking at you. There was not a word the rest of the meal, but that's what it's like when you someone loses their senses.

So today, you take the long way home. You don't want to see the mind-numbed zombie or the deaf-mute senseless drone. 

Your mother is standing outside the front steps as you approach, "You'd better hurry in. Your father's going to lose his head if you make me keep dinner waiting any longer."

Lose ... his head? A real monster this time, all shoulders and body and appetite and anger? Arms even longer, able to reach you from even farther? What was the head but the wobbly bit on the top? The place he kept his mind and senses? Without his head, it's just the monster.

You hear heavy steps down the stairs. You see his feet, the long arms, the mouth. It's hard to know without a face, but he looks angry.

Resigned to your fate, you step inside. 

If you get another chance, you'll never take the long way again.