This Old Rotten House

“How come the walls are bleeding?” murmured Shiela to herself. This can’t be good, she thought, her vision becoming clearer. The bleeding wall wasn’t bleeding blood, more like emanating a rotten sap-like liquid. It was dark brown with a hint of red, thick like molasses. If it weren’t for the pungent, rotted forest tree smell it could be passed off as that, or motor oil. Shiela grabbed the cushiony mass below her, regaining knowledge of her surroundings. She was laying on a couch, a small one, in the middle of the den at her friend Hector’s house. The fabric was falling off the arm rests and it was stained by her friend’s late mother’s cigarette habit. Hector was lying on the floor in front of Shiela, murmuring in a deep, drunken sleep. Shiela sat up and nudged Hector with her foot. He barely moved, a lone gurgle being the only sign of life of his.

She got up off the couch and walked over to the bathroom. Her head pounding, she could feel the food in her stomach in the back of her throat. She got to the bathroom, flung up the lid, and wretched. The pale green vomit hit the bowl, splashing in the water. She wretched again, this time sending yellow, chunky vomit into the toilet bowl. Until it felt like her stomach had no more food to spew, she slunk down onto the side of the bathtub. Cold sweats rained down her forehead and her stomach was tight like someone was wringing it out. She sat still, staring at the analog bathroom clock while her body adjusted to having less filth in it. Her headache lessened, and her vision got better, allowing her to notice that she must have stepped in a puddle of the brown stuff. The smell coming off of her right foot was bad enough to make her want to vomit again, but her insides had nothing left to give.

I gotta figure out what the fuck this shit is, Shiela thought as she got up to her feet. She was glad that the water coming out of the tap was clear. She washed out her mouth, swallowed a few gulps, and splashed some water onto her face. She didn't quite recognize the woman looking back at her in the mirror.

She remembered her hair being longer, in two ponytails. She remembered it being blonde too, it somehow being stained by the vile goo. Her skin was pale, pale from being sick, pale from projectile vomiting up was either a lovely dinner or a late night burger run. Probably both, knowing the kind of fun she and Hector have. There were stains from brown goo and red Four Loko on her gray tank top. She and Hector wanted to get good and drunk, and try and forget about the day. It wasn't until she massaged her sore lower back that she noticed she was only wearing a white tanga. I thought they were blue, Shiela pondered, must’ve thrown them on so quick I forgot. She found her acid washed jean shorts next to the bath mat in front of the unwashed bathtub and put them on. At least he wrapped up, she thought as she threw away the wrapper of what was now a dead Trojan soldier filled with hopefully a million more dead things.

The detestable brown goo came out of the shower head and drain. It mixed with the light pink sediment that lined the bathtub. It was like the bathtub and had been stained with pink dye. The smell sent Shiela out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Nausea caused her to gag more, this time onto the ripped carpet under feet. Just the handfuls of water she glugged down came up, she didn’t feel too bad about getting that on the floor. That’s right, Hector’s eleventyhundred year old cat died, Shiela realized, I guess that's a good reason to forget a whole day. She looked back at the showerhead. The brown goo was flowing like diarrhea now, viscous but more liquidious now. The more her five senses slowly got back to their jobs, the worse the smells of the whole house began to flood into Shiela. There better not be any of the shit in the Goddamn kitchen, thought Shiela, hungry from having an empty stomach.

"Nothing feels right here," echoed a disembodied male voice.

"Was that you Hector?" asked Shiela, startled by the voice. She looked behind herself, catching her reflection in the slow-moving goo on the wall to her left. It covered the whole wall, like a mirror made by the Devil. Twisted and engorged, like a circus mirror that makes you look like a nuclear mutant. The only normal looking thing was her forehead, and on it were two purple lipstick kisses. She remembered two soft kisses, but she thought it was Hector being more tender than normal. She definitely remembered him not wearing any lipstick. She wiped them off with the back of her hand and her forehead now laid bare.

Shiela didn’t know if she should feel fear from the hallucinations, or shame over the state of herself the morning after another drunken fuck with Hector. She noticed that, given the situation, she wasn’t more anxious than normal. Any average schmuck would’ve turned tail and called the fire department from their neighbor’s house once they saw their house was rotting. Not Shiela, she was calm and more curious if anything. Her stomach bellowed and her brain stabbed itself. You can’t investigate unexplained phenomena with a migraine and an empty stomach.

She opened the fridge to find the fridge was also full of the nauseating goo. It was all over the food, eggs, the milk, everything. Shiela tried her best to grab the only barely covered half eaten burrito on the middle shelf, but a large glob of the goo landed on her hand and the food, making it inedible.

"Fat bitch," whispered a woman's voice.

"The fuck was that?" said Shiela. She whipped her head around, surveying the kitchen like a startled cat. Ready to go in for the kill on whatever uninvited guest that was in the kitchen with her. She found no person and returned her focus to her sullied arm. She went over to the sink to rinse off her rot covered hand. Twisting the handle to get the cool water running, she was relieved that the water coming out of the tap was clear and drinkable. Well, drinkable in that it wasn’t tainted with hellish molasses. Hector’s tap water always tasted like pool water filtered through river stones. Shiela washed the sticky, rotten goo off of her arm and filled up the biggest glass she could find with Hector’s mediocre water.

She found her shoes by the backyard sliding door that led to the patio of Hector’s house. She saw a couple she and Hector met the night before sitting on some hardwood, vintage lawn chairs. The outside world was completely unaffected by the catastrophe going on inside the house. The sun was coming through the flowering crabapple trees that sat on either side of the concrete slab that was the patio. It was a man and a woman, sitting comfortably on the two wooden, reclinable lawn chairs. This was odd because the only lawn furniture Hector owned were two metal benches and a fire pit. Not to mention the collection of empty beer cans, burger wrappers, and marshmallow bags. If anything Shiela figured Hector would be grateful for the clean up.

Why was the world so bright outside when the inside of the house was melting like hot plastic? thought a worried Shiela. The woman turned to see Shiela, but instead of looking at her in shock she just waved hello.

“Come outside and join us,” said the woman, her husband turning to look as well. They were both in casual outside wear. The woman had on a light pink sundress with dark red roses. Her husband had on a green floral button up shirt, with tan chinos and a brown belt. The only thing the couple had in common were their shoes, pitch black leather. Shiela stepped outside the door to join them. As soon as she walked out, she felt instantly refreshed. Her dirty clothes were no longer on her, instead she was now wearing a similar sundress to the woman’s, with yellow flowers instead of the roses. Her feet got caressed by black leather slippers and her hair got tied up into a long braid like the woman’s hair. She felt compelled to touch her head, noticing the firmness of the braid and the exquisite softness of her now clean blonde hair.

“This is crazy,” said Shiela, “I have to go get Hector.”

“Who is Hector dear?” asked the woman.

“He’s my friend, this is his house.”

“No, it isn’t, this is our house dear.”

“No this is his house; I swear to god it is.”

“Well, no,” said the man, “I’m the owner of this house.”

“What did you do to him? What did you do to us?”

“We thought it’d be fun for us all to get together, so we brought you both to our house.”

“You were drunk when you met us,” added the woman, “you tried to take us to your house, but we insisted that you come to ours.”

“Oh, geez did we all fuck?” asked Shiela, frustration and concern fighting with the unshakeable inner calm.

“No, it was his turn to watch,” said the woman with a chuckle.

“You both sure gave that Hector fellow a night he won’t forget,” said the man.

“We might’ve swapped thongs by accident too,” laughed the woman, and her husband laughed with her.

Memories of the night before came flooding back like a montage from American Psycho. That explains the kisses on my face and my underwear being different. Shiela remembered being undressed by both the woman and Hector. The woman’s hands were so soft, and she touched her so tenderly. They kissed for the first time after she’d taken of Shiela’s tank top. She cupped Shiela’s breast, admiring her gray satin bra. They kept kissing while Hector undid her bra from behind before pulling down her shorts. He kissed and bit her buttocks while she and the woman continued to make out.

The woman took Shiela’s bra the rest of the way off, holding and squeezing her breasts. She played with her nipples while they made out some more. The woman’s lips were Shiela’s whole world. She could barely feel Hector’s lips and hands on her buttocks and thighs. Finally, the woman gave her the two kisses on the forehead before the woman got on her knees in front of her.

She remembered how she smelled, how she and the woman shared a bath afterwards, in water blessed by the most wonderful bath bomb she’d ever bathed with. Somehow, they both could fit in it perfectly, like the bathtub changed its shape to fit them both. The water was warm, and the woman’s kisses were even warmer.

Her thoughts returned to the moment prior, the woman had pulled down Shiela’s navy blue tanga and kissed the front of her thighs, all the way up. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the woman’s kisses were like hot electricity. She could feel Hector’s mouth now too, his kisses and bites were surging lava like the woman’s. He parted her buttocks and spit, playing with the soft in-between with his thumb. He kept on biting, kissing, and licking her cheeks while he fingered her most secret spot. Shiela’s whole body shook from the sensations, an unending moment of elysian bliss. She felt scared, relaxed, alarmed, and exuberant at the same time. As she came, she saw the man slowly stroking his fully extended member. That’s when the other truth of the matter reared its ugly head.

She didn’t want to keep feeling the pleasure of these memories. These intimate and lovely moments were shared with strangers. Strangers who happened upon her and Hector, drunk off their asses and horny for each other. They pounced on the moment to get their rocks off too. Too drunk to say no and too enslaved not to say yes. The bliss of the feeling of the woman’s lips covering her body was now replaced with a feeling of emptiness and regret.

These sweet and terrifying thoughts did nothing to dissuade Shiela of a very obvious truth. It still felt like she was at Hector’s, that whatever happened with him, and this mystery couple happened in his living room. That was his couch she woke up on, that was his floor he was currently passed out on. How could this couple, these two random people she couldn’t remember before now, how could they possibly claim that this was their house!

“So, you say that this is your house?” asked Shiela.

“You bet sugar lips,” said the woman, “me and that specimen over there built the whole thing from the ground up.”

Shiela watched the man smile. Obviously, they were in love, madly in love. The kind of love that seems like Hollywood bullshit.

“Then how come your house is a fucking rotting mess inside?” asked Shiela angrily.

The woman’s face didn’t change, but her eyes changed dramatically in a matter of seconds. The whites of her eyes turned pitch black, and her irises turned a sickly green. Shiela felt like she’d been stabbed through the base of her neck and had nails pushed under her fingernails.

“We are very happy with our home,” said the woman, “I suggest you respect it.”

“Okay, okay, just stop the pain,” said Shiela, barely able to get words out of her mouth. The woman’s eyes returned to their normal white and brown and her husband opened the sliding door to usher everyone back inside. As Shiela walked in, she frantically began to inspect the kitchen. She ran to the fridge and opened it, and then ran back to confront the two.

“Now let me explain before you get angry again,” said the man.

“Your house, Hector's house, whatever the fuck this place is, it was a smelly, rotting shithole when I woke up this morning. There was disgusting shit everywhere, leaking from the walls and covering all the food. Either you drugged me or you’re fucking with my mind,” shouted Shiela, “explain quick or I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“Shiela,” said the man as calmly and friendly as possible, “even a house gets hungry.”

Shiela took a moment to process what she was told and bolted back to Hector’s room. She turned the doorknob and yanked open the door and shrieked in horror at what she saw. Inside was all of the brown slime, now congealed into a gelatinous mass. Inside of the gelatin was Hector’s half digested skeleton. Tears began to stream from her face and she reached out to touch Hector’s hand that was sticking out of the mass. She was then telepathically yanked back into the kitchen and planted onto the table.

“I sure am glad the house didn’t get to eat you,” said the woman as she placed her hands on either side of Shiela’s head.

“We don’t get this kind of gourmet where we come from,” said the man before ripping off Shiela’s right leg. As Shiela screamed in agony the woman pulled Shiela’s head off of her body. The couple’s eyes turned back to the sickly black and green, and their teeth sharpened like daggers. The woman then smashed Shiela’s head onto the edge of the table, breaking it in half like a chef cracks open an egg. The man waited patiently as the woman carefully removed the top of Shiela’s skull and scalp. The two then feasted on what ended up being the tastiest meal they’d had in 500 years.