Story 4: Hazelwood: Cup O' Sum

There was a dead monster, and the café was massacred.

It would be an understatement to call the situation abysmal. Nothing in the town's memory could compare to it. Then, just as the sheriff started to block off this 'attack,' the midday sun - the very thing our planet revolves around - vanished. Our world was dark as tar for a second. If the sheriff and the rest of the officers weren't busy with the deaths of friends and family, they might have cared.

Sheriff Harry Williams was thorough in his investigation, having no idea if there were more monsters. He ordered all his idle men to start patrolling as he and the remaining few at the café's corpse searched for survivors. None were found. At least the coroner would stay busy.

After the unsuccessful search and rescue, Harry checked the security footage.

The start of the day was uneventful, with customers going about their business, and the barista studying behind the counter. It was all normal until the cameras glitched. Even after that, it took a while to realize that something was wrong. At first, it was small things like the barista itching himself an increasing amount, but then he became irate, shouting at a customer, punching a wall, and throwing a bagel. All the while, he slowly grew in stature, and his body went through a metamorphosis. His transformation was quick. So quickly that by the time people caught on, there was already a corpse.

Having seen enough, Harry paused the footage, not having the heart to see what he already knew.

Taking a deep breath, the sheriff rested his face in his shaking hands to get a bearing on the situation.

The world didn't grant him such a luxury. The ground shook, and the air quaked. The sound of a behemoth's laughter rumbled in the back of Harry's mind. Small shadows flickered in and out of existence, teleporting, and were accompanied by whispers that were too disjointed and small to understand. The wrongness of this situation caused Harry to run from the backroom, only for him to see his deputy John staring out the window at a blinding red glow. Awe or mindlessness was plastered on his face as he itched the back of his neck.

"John!" Harry shouted while the shadows tugged on his everything. "What's going on out there!" John didn't respond, but the shadows giggled, laughing at Harry and taunting him for things he could not understand as he watched frozen in horror.

It didn't take long for John's neck to extend, or for his hands to turn into spindly claws.

"No!"

Harry, although semi-restrained by the combined forces of the shadows and his psyche, reached for his gun and shot his deputy. His hands were trembling, but his shot was true, causing a new batch of fresh viscera to coat the café. It wasn't but two hours ago when this café would have smelled of hot coffee and fresh pastries, now the most assaulting smells clung to the air. The scope of what he'd just done had begun to hit. Harry fell to his knees and threw up. The shadows found this turn of events hilarious, laughing at his sorrow, they mocked him in their small broken language.

Slowly, Harry regained his composure. He grabbed his radio, but as soon as he pressed the button, it exploded. Throwing the remnants, he screamed at the world, rebuking this day and any other like it, wishing it nothing but damnation.

"If you want answers, you need not but look outside." These words were not Harry's, nor were they the machinations of the shadows. His mind refused to believe that what had uttered them was human, and his soul knew they were evil. "You will not be harmed if you peer out." Soft and cold like a breeze on an autumn night, the voice lied as easily as it spoke.

Harry propped himself against the outer wall. He may not have known what lay beyond them, yet he knew that only looking at it could twist a human into a beast. Gripping his service weapon, he aimed it at the shadows. The figments of greater beings laughed at his feeble gun. His pistol roared with Harry's indignation, the bullets absurdly useless. Harry felt his resolve falter. There was nothing left for him in life but death or madness. The liar's promises became increasingly tempting as each minute passed. Whatever the liar was, it remained outside. Its presence bent his mind and commanded the shadows. He knew none of them belonged on earth. They were unnatural, they shouldn't exist. Yet here they were. The shadows started to sing and dance, heralding an even greater hell for Harry.

The window shuddered, then shattered, and an appendage slithered in, guided by the shadows. The flesh of this 'arm' was a color Harry had never seen. It was mesmerizing in its horror and beauty, like a starlit flower sprouting from a corpse. The 'arm' felt around the café, reaching closer and closer. First, it grabbed his foot, then his torso. Its touch was frigid magma and rang like a bell, ringing in Harry's soul, and it paralyzed him. No amount of last-ditch adrenaline or determination could save him as he was lifted and brought out into the open world. His eyes and soul were confronted with a being of impossible shapes and sizes. Something so incomprehensible that you could never see the entirety of it. It was humanoid to an utterly minuscule degree. Harry would scream if he could feel fear or think. His world was filled with a terrible itching sensation and madness.

Harry was gone. Same as the barista, same as John.