Velli

  The news recording freezes as Rose stomps on Duke’s head. He’s probably dead. The thought of Rose’s smug face as she reports her victory fills me with a rage I didn’t know I could possess. This is the second time Rose ruined everything.

  “Do not panic. Do not panic.” I have to verbalize it because I should panic. I have to verbalize the very real possibility that Prometheus is going to kill me. There has to be a plan D. Right, I always have a backup and a backup for my backup. There is no plan D. I’m dead.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I consider ignoring it, but I could use the distraction from my demise. It’s an automated text from Mom’s hospital. No… This shouldn’t be possible. I shouldn’t have a receipt for my mom’s visit because it’s not over. She should still be in there. They should still be taking care of her.

  I rush out of my bedroom and head straight to the front door. I reach into my pockets for a key to lock it. I left my key in the house. Doesn’t matter. I run. It’s only three blocks away. If I sprint, I can get there before a transporter comes.

  You know you’ll be too late, right?

  Things move in a blur. I can’t register anything. It’s all instinct and fear. Why would they kick her out of the hospital? Why would she be outside the gate? How could they put someone on the street who needs help?

  This is how things work out for you. You lose. It’s just the way it is.

  My chest burns. I’m on a sidewalk with streetlamps now. That means I’m close. Fear-laced adrenaline boosts me forward.

  All you have to do is let things go. Let life go. Let hope go, then you’re fine.

  I round the corner of a building that’s a blur, but I know it to be a convenience store. There she is, lying on the porch steps. They kicked her out. No one surrounds her. No pedestrians stop by to ask if she needs help or a ride. No, they just walk on the other side of the street, pretending they don’t see her. Those selfish, forever-dried pricks. The hospital just placed her on the street—like she’s not old, like she’s not dying. I’ll stuff my money down security’s throats, and they’ll personally bring her back inside.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  My sprint goes to a jog so I don’t scare her then a walk because something isn’t right.

  My mom doesn’t look like that, but that’s her face. She’s always been slim, yet she’s massive now. From her toes to her fingers to her face, everything is stretched and malformed, a balloon on the cusp of bursting. I’m close enough to touch her. I don’t dare.

  Her skin, so perfect, so clear before, has small tears all over that grow larger—not like a balloon, like a bag. A bag stuffed with sand. I burst into tears, not manly tears, not like the man I’ve been trying to become but like a baby. Like a child because that’s what I am. That’s my mother. I’m not ready. I’m still a kid. I need her. What’s happening to her? I need her. I approach her, my vision blurry from tears, and I’m scared of her, scared for her.

  “Vel-li,” my mom says in a voice that’s not hers.

  Sand falls out of her mouth and eyes. It has to hurt. Why would someone do this to my mom?

  “Please stop,” I beg in a whisper because I’m afraid to say anything louder, afraid to anger it—whatever is happening.

  If Mom’s pupils are still in there, I can’t see them. They’re completely covered in sand. I can’t move. I can’t believe this is happening. Her cheeks are stuffed like she’s hiding food. The sound she’s making… It’s like she’s crunching on it. I can taste sand in my own mouth.

  “Vel-li,” she says again.

  “Get out of her, Reloj! Get out of my mom!”

  “No, oh, oh oh.” Sand dribbles down Mom’s cheeks. “I lost someone I love tonight. So now you will know what that feels like too!”

  “I already have!” I scream. My knees drop to the ground. I grab my mom’s swollen hand and kiss it and beg. Each finger’s the size of a sausage and growing, looking less and less like a hand. “You have no idea how much I’ve lost. I’ve lost friends. I’ve lost my dad…”

  “What’s one more, then?” The Sandwoman manipulates her immaterial body from inside my mom.

  My mother’s shoulders shake, and her chin wiggles in an ugly laugh. She pulls my mother’s lips up to form an ugly smile. The sound of my mother’s skin tearing haunts my ears.

  “No, please, c’mon, Reloj! Reloj! The vow! Remember you vowed you wouldn’t take revenge. You’ll die if you kill her.”

  “Yes, I want to see my lover again, and I will see you, too, Vel-li. You’re one of us now. I imagine we’ll end up in the same place.”

  The thing my mother called a hand goes limp. There is no pulse.

  Substack Link- For short stories of fantasy and horror that sometimes involve the characters from here

  https://iifinch.substack.com/

  Reddit Link- short stories here as well but you also get a bit more community.

  https://www.reddit.com/r/Finchink/