Fading Light: An Anthology of the Monstrous: Tim Marquitz Read Online Free

who
go missing each year. My hunger requires twenty-five hundred per day,
but I’m usually a couple hundred short—intentionally
—as to not cause too much notice until my pit demands the final
feeding; until my guide has opened the door to the next world.

    ~

    Home at last. Steve was surprised at the small amount of
traffic for a Friday evening. He pulled between two large trees,
which guarded his driveway, and untied the rope that was created in
his brain when he left work thirty minutes earlier. He could taste
the large pie with mushrooms and onions he was about to order. Now
completely drained, he needed some quick refueling.
    After ordering his pizza, Steve clicked the answering
machine.
    “Hate to ruin your Saturday, but the boss needs
everyone in for four hours tomorrow. Thursday’s load is finally
coming in around seven, or so, and it has to get stocked. Any
problems leave a message on the machine. Take care.”
    Crap. His Friday night plans were over. He knew
he had to go in, being the lowest man on the totem pole. I can’t
get a break, he thought, realizing he’d have to go through
another day of stressful, panic-easing rituals just to get to and
from work. Thoughts of starting an Internet business from home made
their way into Steve’s mind. He had to do something. Soon.
    By the end of Letterman’s monologue, Steve Burke
was out cold, still dressed except for his black work boots. A small
hole in the left one allowed water and other storeroom liquids to
creep in and stain his thick sock. Two slices of pizza remained on
the kitchen table, creating a feast for the flies that weaseled in
the back door with him five hours earlier.

    ~

The time is at hand. I wonder if the inhabitants of
the next world will be as suspicious of each other as these are. They
blame my feeding on kidnappers. On running away. On stress. Even on
abductions by beings from other planets.

Only a few see that I’m above them, that I keep
them safe.

And they fear me.

    ~

    The black Taurus sped down the congestion free street in
all its pride. It wasn’t much but was what Steve could afford,
and he was proud of it.
    I wish it was like this every day. His anxiety of
falling off the planet was greatly eased when he worked the weekends,
having the whole road to himself, with the exception of a few
annoying delivery trucks. In less than half the time as a routine
workday, Steve pulled into Johannsen’s Imports parking lot,
lucky enough to get a spot next to the tree-island.
    Inside, the place was as busy as any other day. Mr.
Johanssen must have been extremely pleased that most of his crew
showed up without complaint. He looked over the vast work area with
his feet up on the large bay window, probably surprised to see no one
fooling around.
    “Steve. Give us a hand over here.”
    “No problem, John.”
    Although only employed at Johannsen’s for under a
year, Steve rapidly learned the ropes of Brooklyn’s largest
sea-front warehouse. Men forklifted the new merchandise onto
ten-level racks, Steve one of the few who stood by to guide them in
on the more difficult angles.
    Before anyone became too tired, the latest shipment was
put away, and it wasn’t even noon. Close to thirty employees
went to grab a cup of coffee from the small break room before heading
over to the punch clock.
    Steve was already preparing himself for the trip to his
car. Sure, the walk in was great, but now he’d be leaving with
everyone, and the pressure was on. The pressure to carry himself like
a normal, gravity trusting human being was no easy task when
surrounded by them; and for what reason he (and his countless
physicians) had no clue.
    Bathroom. Pills. Vitamins. Head under faucet.
Dash-to-the-rear-exit. He stood by the door, the sound of the early
70’s punch clock hammering away. The warehouse exodus had
begun. He attached the rope to his waist, tugging it to make sure it
was secured.
    Perfect.

    ~

I settled here before man was formed. They