In shadows deep where secrets dwell,
A sultry siren casts her spell.
Her lips rouge red, her whispers sweet,
A dance of death on eager feet.
She sheds the weight of vows once sworn,
A gilded band her finger’s scorn.
For youth, she seeks his warmth, his fire,
Unaware of the lurking mire.
But in the dark, the beast lies near,
A hunger vast, a breath of fear.
A lover’s touch she craves tonight,
But finds instead the void of light.
The velvet hush of night blanketed the small town. Soft neon from the local dive bar flickered like a faulty heartbeat as Mamasita, her curves hugged by a crimson dress, leaned into her reflection in the mirror. The woman in the glass stared back, bold, unburdened, and dangerous. Tonight, she wasn’t a wife or a mother. She was alive.
Sliding off her wedding ring, she let it clatter onto the cheap motel dresser. It felt lighter than it should, almost accusatory. She grabbed her clutch, painted her lips a deep, venomous red, and stepped out into the night to meet her young, fresh man.
He was a high school gym teacher, his taut muscles and eager energy far removed from the quiet monotony of her husband’s world. They’d flirted in the shadows of a PTA meeting, promises whispered behind plastic cups of punch. He had invited her out to his special spot a secluded clearing just past Mirkwood.
The trail was overgrown, each step of her stiletto heels sinking into damp earth. She clutched her shawl tight against her bare shoulders. “Worth it,” she told herself. She could already feel his hands sliding over her skin.
But the clearing wasn’t empty.
His car was parked haphazardly, headlights cutting weak beams through the trees. She called out his name, her voice sultry but tinged with irritation. Silence.
The wind shifted. The metallic tang of blood curled in her nostrils. Her stiletto snagged on something. Looking down, she froze. A sneaker his sneaker lay torn, streaked with something dark and viscous.
Something moved behind her. A faint rustle, like a thousand wings brushing together.
She spun around, her pulse drumming like a frantic bird in her chest. The shadow that emerged from the trees didn’t look human. Tall and skeletal, with slick, wet skin that shimmered under the moonlight. Its head split open like a grotesque flower, rows of teeth lining each petal.
Her breath hitched. She stumbled back, heels scraping against gravel. “No, no, no,” she whispered, as if the words were a spell to banish the horror.
The Demogorgon crouched, something fleshy dangling from its claws. She recognized his jacket the jacket he’d worn when they’d shared their first kiss just two nights ago. The creature tore into the limp form like a butcher dressing a carcass.
And then, it stopped.
Its head snapped toward her, its predatory eyes gleaming in the dark.
Her scream shattered the night as she turned and ran. The Demogorgon followed, its long limbs skittering over the ground, closing the distance with ease. Her stilettos betrayed her, the thin heel snapping, sending her sprawling to the ground.
The last thing she saw before the world went black was its gaping maw opening wide, an abyss of teeth and hunger.
This story was inspired by an episode of the movie Stranger Things, where the Demogorgon reminds us that some appetites are darker and deadlier than others. Lol it sounds corny but that was actually the point of today’s blog post, as I have been watching this movie lately so I decided to share a squinty view on it. How was it? Your honest opinions are welcome. Cheers.
