In honor of Halloween, the greatest of all lifestyles... I mean seasons, I present to you a brand new horror story, never published anywhere else. Feels like I say this every year (probably because I do) that I feel it is my duty as a horror author to gift you with a new story on Halloween, and this year is no different.
Scratch that, this year is different, because I think this may be the best story I've given away for free! I hope you enjoy reading it, because I had a blast writing it.
I don't know why females get so upset when they learn I'm texting from the bathroom, they act like they never shit. Anyway, who's got something nice on Snapchat? Before Andy can open the app on his phone, something catches his eye near the bathroom door. Staring, his mind is as blank as he is motionless. Then, Is that a fly? What the hell?
Andy's pristine white bathroom is reflective of the rest of his immaculately cleaned house. No one would call him a germaphobe, but his friend's would unilaterally describe Andy as an anal retentive. Come a little closer, come on. He rolls up a science magazine slowly, keeping his eyes on the fly as it darts around the small tiled washroom.
Biding his time, he momentarily forgets about his bowels and tracks the fly, waiting for it to get close enough, when... Wham! Andy slams the makeshift weapon atop the sink, exploding the fly in a burst of ash. What the hell kind fly is that?
Pausing a moment to contemplate his question, Andy then remembers his original reason for being in that particular room.
It just feels wrong that LA has a football team. I mean, it just doesn't even sound right. There's a reason both teams left in the nineties. Why would they... “Seriously?” The sight of a fly in the bathroom once again catches Andy's eye. It flies behind the shower curtain, hiding obscured by the white cloth with the black silhouette of a barren tree. Come out, come out wherever you are.
The sing-song cadence of his thoughts contradict the fury in his heart. He grabs the same magazine, with remnants of another fly near the top right corner of the back cover. His mind's gone blank with anger and bewilderment at the bug brazen enough to infiltrate his private sanctum. Suddenly the fly appears from the side of the shower near Andy sitting on his throne. Hiya! With a swiftness that surprises even himself, Andy smashes the insect intruder, leaving a smear of ashes against the tiled wall. Ridiculous. He can now resume his previous mission.
I know better than to eat Thai so late in the night, but God that was so worth it. As predictable as Andy’s bathroom schedule, the same has become true for his nightly visit by the aerial nuisance.
Although he's sitting on the toilet with his jeans comfortably resting at his knees, Andy refuses to use the facilities until he massacres the intruder he knows is waiting for him. Oh where, oh where can my fly be? As if on cue, his attention is drawn to the window to his left. It is set high enough that if he were to stand up nude, his indecency would remain hidden, however the window is low enough to prevent anyone outside a view over the white shower curtain.
Already in his hand, he readies the ash stained science magazine. It rolls comfortably, doing most of the work on its own, like a well-oiled derby cart going downhill. Yahtzee! a poof of ash is smeared on the window, and Andy's tense body relaxes, allowing him to do his business.
“Yea, I'm fine. I'll be out in minute.” Andy shouts with sweat beading his face as he waits on the toilet. His friends are over to watch the football game, but he can't think about that right now. His eyes are laser focused, scanning the lavatory. Come on you piece of shit, I know you're here. Show your ashy ass. Nothing.
His feet have gone numb, his thighs bloodless white, but still he waits with makeshift weapon in hand. Where the hell have you been coming from? Still scanning, his eyes fall to the bottom of his shower curtain. The bleach white cloth has a small gray stain of ash from the previous night's massacre.
Before the thought of cleaning the curtain can fully form in his mind, “HA!” Did I say that out loud? He creates another gray stain, this time on the wall just above the toilet paper roll. The joy of felling his foe eases Andy into releasing everything with little difficulty.
Anytime you son of a bitch. Come on, hurry up! Andy has been waiting to find a bug for what feels like hours, but he dare not avert his eyes from their vigilance of the small tiled room to check his phone.
Was that… he focuses to his right where the towel is hung next to the sink. Is that where you are? You think I won’t get up with my pants around my ankles? Proving the insect wrong, He shuffles two steps from the toilet to the other side of the sink and stands in front of the towel rack. One hand holds the rolled science magazine in a halfcocked position, while the other holds his bubbling stomach.
Whamm! “Haha.” When will you learn? You’re my bitch! Andy’s gloats are cut off by his need to defecate.
I can’t hold it any longer. Penguin-walking from the door where he thought he saw an ash fly, Andy makes his way back to the toilet, when… Are you there?
He throws the shower curtain open, blindly swinging his trusted weapon and slamming it against the shower wall between the water controls and the showerhead. The gray magazine leaves a long smear of ash, but Andy knows there was no fly part of that mess. Damn it. “Damn it.”
The white bathroom tiles have seen better days, just three months ago in fact. They now almost all have an ever-growing layer of gray ash. The same can be said for the sink, towel rack, window, curta… “Hahaha, got you, you son of a bitch!” Another small pile of ash added to the windowsill.
Where are you?
Where the hell are you?
“Where the fuck are you, you piece of sh...trash?” After days of unsuccessfully finding an ash fly, Andy can’t bring himself to even say the word of the act he hasn’t been able to do.
“Just come out, let me kill you, and I can go to the bathroom. I promise I won’t kill you tomorrow. Okay?” His bargain falls on deaf ears, and he waits more.
“Is this where you’re hiding?” Andy rips off the lid of the toilet tank, nothing. The gray ash disturbed by the violent jerking dances in the air.
Andy swings errantly at the cascading gray snowflakes, knowing they aren’t actually living flies. “Ahhh!”
Now fully naked, Andy has not only removed his clothes and the lid to the toilet, but also ripped off the doors to the bathroom cabinet below the sink, towel rack, curtain rod, and toilet paper holder. Ash has settled on every visible surface, including the unused toilet, but for five days none of it has been from a new kill.
“Please, just let me kill you. That’s how this works. Please.”
The only noise in response to his whispered plea is the grumbling of his stomach, in desperate need of release. “I know.” Andy answers his own body, with tears rolling down his cheeks. “I know, but I can’t go yet. Just a little longer, okay? I tried to go an hour ago, and it wouldn’t work.” That hour, was three days ago. “Just don’t think about it, while I kill this fly again, okay?”
Andy has given up on finding the fly. Andy’s given up on going to the bathroom. Andy’s given up.
Curled into a ball, Andy cries on the floor of his destroyed bathroom.
With much effort the officer was able to break the bathroom door in, and push it past the rubble of broken tiles on the floor.
Justin, one of Andy’s football friends, isn’t sure what he notices first, the smell wafting from the bathroom past the officer or the sound of his friend. “I'll just be a minute longer.”
“Oh my god.” He whispers as he surveys the wreckage of both the bathroom and of his friend. “What happened to you?”
Like flies to shit, both are now in the bathroom with Andy. “Just be a minute.” He says to no one in particular, still holding out the notion that he must kill the fly again.
The officer bends to a knee, waving his hands violently in the air, shoeing away the swarm hovering around Andy.. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside.” He doesn’t turn to see if Justin is still there as he reaches for Andy.
“Just be a minute.”
Not sure what to make of the scene, the officer tries to comfort Andy, “It's okay son, we'll get you some help.” The smell, still too much for him causes him to gag. “Why don't we try and get you cleaned up?” He offers for Andy's sake as much as for himself.
“Just a minute.”
Andy sits in an all white room, eerily similar to his former bathroom. However, instead of white porcelain tiles, these tiles are padded, and instead of a vanity mirror, there's a two-way mirror. He's also no longer naked, but now dressed in a straight jacket.
“Just a minute.”
“Just a minute.”
Just a minute.
Moral of the story is, I spend way too much time on the toilet. That's all you really need to know. That, and day 201 was chosen because of my 201 area code that I lived within my entire life.