Short Story - In the Blink of an Eye – Cacy Ann Minter

By: Cacy Ann Minter

Franky couldn’t pinpoint the exact day he first saw the creature. He guessed he’d always had a feeling that something in his existence wasn’t quite right, but he never could put his finger on it. And so he went about his usual boring daily routines, battling the endless flow of commuters to his dead-end job. Franky had become so proficient at purchasing the minuscule parts for his company’s printed circuit boards that he usually only contributed about twenty to thirty minutes of actual work before surfing the web for the remainder of the day. Following another uneventful day perched in front of a hypnotizing monitor inside of his tiny green cubicle, Franky would once more fight his way through traffic, only to return to an empty, sad little studio apartment. His only company was a rat (whom he dubbed Mr. Squeakers) that occasionally shuffled about inside the walls of the tenement, much to his landlord’s chagrin.

It was only after numerous months of this ho-hum life that Franky realized something special was happening to him. He had gotten up at a woefully early hour (as usual), showered and shaved (yawn), then was turning to head towards his closet when he got the distinct impression that he was not alone in the apartment. He halted in his steps at the threshold of the bathroom, swiveling his head from side to side, scanning the tiny abode for any minute disturbance. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he took a single step into the combined kitchenette/bedroom and was shocked to see a tiny red “man” balanced on the edge of the cracked formica countertop. Gasping audibly, he blinked long and slow, and the apparition disappeared. Unnerved by the ethereal presence, he covered his heart with his right hand, and strode over to the counter. He gingerly swiped his hand across the surface, and noted that the countertop felt unusually warm where the apparition has appeared, as if a hot pan had just been removed from the countertop.

“Don’t loose it now, Franky-boy”, he muttered to himself. Then he turned back towards his closet and proceeded to dress for another unremarkable day at the office. Unknown to him, Franky would never have another unremarkable day for the rest of his life.

The real trouble started when Franky was crossing the parking lot adjacent to his apartment, heading towards his ancient maroon Honda. He was walking at a steady pace, inspecting the nearly empty lot as he walked, when he again glimpsed the little red man, hovering over the trunk of a white Chevy Impala about 20 feet away. He stopped in his tracks and stared at the strange apparition. The being was human-like, but far more terrifying in form than anything he had ever witnessed. Two unnaturally large amber eyes glowed out of a fleshy mound of a head. A black beak-like protrusion jutted out from where the beings nose ought to have been, which sat atop a gaping gash which Franky assumed was its mouth. The creature’s body was covered in blisters and pus-filled sores, some of which were oozing out a purplish-green substance that was in turn leaking down the being’s arms and legs. Franky didn’t even want to imagine what the thing must smell like, although he assumed it was somewhere along the lines of rotting fish or putrid flesh.

Franky inhaled sharply, eyes transfixed on the form, his mind already considering possible escape routes should the creature decide to approach him. Just then, it grinned, and displayed a set of strange, jagged, silvery teeth. The expression on the being’s face was almost contemptuous, as if it knew what Franky was thinking and was ready to cut-off any getaway that Franky had planned. Franky gulped down a breath of smog-filled air, blinked rapidly in succession…and the creature disappeared as suddenly as it had materialized.

At this point in time, Franky was quite certain he’d either been drugged or else the chicken he’d had for dinner the night before had been tainted. Opting for a day of bed rest over making a fool of himself in front of his co-workers, he began trekking back up to his second-floor apartment. With trembling hands he tried inserting the key into the deadbolt and then cursed aloud when he dropped them. He bent over to pick up the fob, glancing cautiously over his shoulder as he did so. He was straightening back up and staring intently on the keyhole when he felt a hot breeze glide across his neck and caught a whiff of the most noxious, reeking odor he had ever experienced. Gagging involuntarily, he miraculously fumbled the key into the lock, just in time to step into the doorway and retch all over the tiled entryway as well as his spiffy clean loafers.

Whirling around (while still vomiting), he slammed the front door shut and engaged both deadbolts as well as the security chain. Only then did the heaving subside, and Franky took a long, deep breath. Disgusted by his actions, he immediately rushed into the bathroom to see if he could salvage his shoes by any chance. He stripped down to his boxers and proceeded to rinse his shoes off in the sink. The fact that he kept whispering to himself, “Get it together, Franky-boy, pull it together, Franky-boy,” over and over didn’t even register. He finally gave up on the shoes (ruined) and set them on top of the toilet lid, then leaned over the sink, cupped his hands under the running water, then slurped and swished the clean cool water around his mouth.

He started to calm down. That was when he looked in the mirror and saw the creature’s unmistakable glowing eyes shining in the mirror just behind where he was standing. Franky froze and just stood leaning on the porcelain sink, eyes locked with the glowing orbs reflected in the hazy glass. Franky blinked…..and again the creature was gone.
Franky sank down onto his squeaky mattress and put his head in his hands. He was afraid he was completely losing it. He felt as though he couldn’t trust his own eyes, worried what disgusting image would assault him the next time he blinked. Knowing what he had to do, Franky quickly hurried over to the kitchenette and began rummaging around in his junk drawer, all the while holding his eyelids open with the middle finger and thumb of his right hand. He soon found his prize, and returned to his sunken mattress. He carefully applied a piece of scotch tape to each eyelid, praying the adhesive would be strong enough to hold his eyes open, at least until he could reach the phone on the opposite wall of the apartment. He made a mad dash to the handset, all the while worrying exactly what he was going to say to get the police to come to his aide, but he knew better than to tell the dispatcher the truth. As he dialed 9-1-1, he quickly rehearsed a story about some kind of burglary, then to his dismay, sneezed loudly as soon as the operator answered the other line. The sneezing caused his eyelids to shut, against his will, and against the will of the tape. Obviously, his plan to keep from blinking had misfired. As he slowly opened his eyes, he again smelled the distinctly fetid aroma filling his nostrils and he instinctively began gasping and gagging, forcing himself to blink to try to eradicate the presence he knew would be waiting behind him. He could dimly hear the operator on the other end of the receiver asking what his emergency was, but he was entirely incapacitated by the sickly odor and could not answer her….then he felt a hot hand on his shoulder….

“So what happened with this guy,” asked the officer as he leaned over the paramedics, trying to catch a glimpse of the carnage below.

“Ripped his eyelids clear off, mumbling something or another about the boogeyman,” the technician answered. “ Prime candidate for the psych ward at county, if you ask me. Hey – do you smell that god-awful stench?”

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