Static echoed from the rusted box, its drooping antenna nothing more than wire and peeling tape. Upon its face, the ghost of some knob or another lingered over a jagged metal prong, as rust drifted in and out of the solitary speaker. Nearby stood an unadorned table, its legs buckling under its own weight, blanketed by dust and the greasy mold starting to form upon its surface. Only a single chair, itself nothing more than bound twigs and damp, oozing glue, remained for use; no trace of what other furniture there might have been remained.
From behind an unseen door emerged a single, lithe figure, a white paper mask obscuring all the features of its face. Walking in erratic movements to the radio, the shadow paused, slowly jerking its bank visage around as though aware of being watched. Without another moment's hesitation, the specter threw an arm across the room, reaching farther than any human arm could, the sounds of breaking bones and torn sinews barely audible above the din. Flicking the skeleton of some radio dial, the static soon became overpowering, as the pale mask turned around, again and again, as each crick of sundered bone still lingered.
A sudden stillness overtook the shadow, its arm back to the way it had been, the twitching motions now calmed. In but a moment, a small line formed upon the mask, growing wider and larger, the figure's head convulsing with each inch. Jagged teeth, grinning, with no eyes or nose or ears to accompany it, ripped across its face, as the static gave way to the sound of aggravated breathing. Even without sight, it turned to face its unseen audience, as the very neck of the shade started to snake and twist from the body, oozing like a fleshy, bleeding worm culled from a sore...
"And that's when we stopped the tape," the agent added, breathing heavily.
"Reason?" demanded the faceless monolith before him.
"Because that's when it reached through the television screen," he blurted out, starting to tremble before adding, "sir."
Fountain of Youth
13 years ago
